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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SAM JOHNSON; 



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RAILROAD TELEGRAPH OPERATOR. 



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By SAMSON 




NEW YORK: 
W-. J. JOHNSTON, PUBLISHER, 

No. 11 FRANKFORT STREET. 



1878. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, 

By W. J. JOHNSTON, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress in Washington. 




PREFACE 



This book has been written for a two-fold purpose. First, to give the 
public an insight into the social life of railroaders ; a near view of the 
daily and nightly workings of the busy bees that manipulate the two 
greatest modern agents of civilization— electricity and steam. It is hoped 
that the panorama here presented will lead to a better understanding of 
the duties and responsibilities of railroaders, and to a corresponding ap- 
preciation of their arduous labors while promoting the safety and comfort 
of the traveling public. 

Secondly, I believe, with Charles Lamb, that a laugh is worth a hun- 
dred groans in any market ; and with Carlyle, that no man who has once 
heartily and wholly laughed, can be altogether irreclaimably bad; and 
also with Addison, who charmingly says : " If we consider the frequent 
reliefs we receive from laughter, and how often it breaks the gloom which 
is apt to depress the mind, one would take care not to grow too wise 
for so great a pleasure of life." 

Holding to these views, I have endeavored to cull from the inexhaust- 
ible fund of Sam Johnson's experience and observations those incidents of 
actual occurrence which, while illustrating some particular phase of rail- 
road life, shall also excite laughter and good feeling. 

I have not spared the railroader at the expense of truth ; neither have 
I bestowed upon him unmerited commendation. I have simply striven to 
hold him up before the public mirror, that the people may see him as 
he is seen by his fellows. 



CONTENTS 



Page 

PRINCETON. : 7 

AN UNKNOWN VISITOR. 9 

"TRICKS OF THE TRADE: 1 11 

A SERIOUS JOKE 12 

MORE DARING THAN WISE 14 

"THROWS UP THE SPONGE." 19 

" WHY DO ALL RAILROADERS SWEAR?" 20 

WHY DO ALL CONDUCTORS " KNOCK DOWN? " 27 

TELEGRAPHING EXTRAORDINARY. 28 

A REVELATION. 34 

A " SOFT SNAP" 35 

A RUSH OF THE FAIR 36 



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VAN WERT 38 

A WARM RECEPTION 39 

THE ALARM. 45 

A "LITTLE UNPLEASANTNESS" 46 

CONFIDENCE OPERATORS 48 

"LIGHTNING FLASHES" 51 

TASTING ELECTRICITY 53 

A CHANGE 54 

RAILROADING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 55 

PLAYING CHECKERS BY TELEGRAPH. 60 

" IGNORANCE IS BLISS" 62 

SAM'S EPITAPH. 63 

A SURPRISE 65 

PETE JONES 66 

PERQUISITES 67 

AN EPIDEMIC. 69 

GUSHING 70 

SNAPPISHNESS AND SIMPLICITY. 71 

A "KNOCK-DOWN" ARGUMENT 72 

TEMPTATION. 73 

"BULLING" 74 

A LONG AND ARDUOUS SIEGE 76 



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NEWTOWN. 82 

NEWTOWN EXCITED 89 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

QUALIFICATIONS NECESSARY TO BE IOPULAR AT NEWTOWN 89 

BUSINESS 92 

A COLORED JOKE 94 

ODDS AND ENDS 95 

SAM RESOLVES TO LEAVE NEWTOWN 98 

M OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE" 99 

HOLLIS. 100 

SAM'S FOURTH OF JULY BREAKFAST 102 

A PERILOUS RIDE 104 

SAM ENRAGED 106 

"SOULLESS CORPORATIONS" 107 



Jourtft %Mft. 



CALIFORNIA 110 

WHIMS 112 

POVERTY FLAT 113 

SUGARVILLE X POVERTY FLAT AND BEETLAND RAILROAD 116 

OBSERVATION. 119 

TRAIN MEN IN CALIFORNIA 119 

RAILROADERS RELIGIOUSLY 122 

HER FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE " STRING," AND SOME INCI- 
DENTS THAT FOLLOW IN HER TRAIN 124 

AN EXPLANATION. 127 

PHANTOM RAILROADERS 128 

TRAMPS 128 

STRANGE BUT TRUE 130 

THE ONLY ONE. 131 

STEALING TIME. 135 

FLAGGING THE MO ON 137 

" TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION" 138 

TELEGRAPH LINE REPAIRING 139 

RECREATION 146 

SATURDAY EVENING 147 

SHOULD RAILROADERS MARRY 149 

TIMOTHY PLUNGER 153 

MICKEY McFADDEN. 154 

MOSES HUNT 156 

JEREMIAH LUDLOW. 157 

LARRY BLUCHER 158 

JOHN KEYSER 158 

JAKE HOWELL 160 

DARBY DIXON 170 

RAILROAD TELEGRAPH OPERATORS 172 



SAM JOHNSON; 

THE EXPERIENCE AND OBSERVATIONS 



OP A 



RAILROAD TELEGRAPH OPERATOR. 



FIRST EPOCH. 

PKINCETON. 

Sam Johnson was a telegraph operator, not born into 
the profession, nor the profession born into him— but a tel- 
egraph operator when we make his acquaintance. Sam 
was small of stature and uncouth in appearance, but his 
pretensions were as large as the largest. He had a boast- 
ing, humorous way of expressing himself, utterly at va- 
riance with the language of his countenance, and so out of 
harmony with his size and strength, that their very oddity 
was ludicrous and laughable. Sam was one of those 
boyish men with whom young and old are alike sociable 
and familiar. 

For punctuality, reliability, and perseverance, Sam rec- 
ognized no superior. He was always on time, and would 
"hang" to a situation as long as it would "hang" to 
him. His first experience as operator was as "all night 
man" at Princeton, a town situated in the swamps in In- 
diana. Everybody had the "ager" there. It was about 
the only thing they were sure of. All other crops might 
fail, but the " ager " crop wouldn't, one could bet on that. 
There was no cure for it, either. When it attacked a man 
or a boy it went through him like electricity through a 



8 SAM JOHNSON. 

wire — not so quickly, perhaps, bnt certainly as effectually. 
You couldn't grasp it or define it, yet you knew it was 
there from the effect it produced. It only left a man when 
he was dead, or when he wasn't worth staying with any 
longer. Skin and bone and soul were all that remained 
of the man after the Indiana "ager" had " prospected" 
him. When it had once shaken him thoroughly, how- 
ever, it left him and never returned. That's the only 
commendable virtue the "ager" possessed. 

Sam Johnson did not fear the "ager." He learned in 
time, to his great sorrow, that the "ager" did not fear 
him, either. Seven o'clock p. m. until seven o'clock a. m. 
were Sam's hours to be on duty. His only company was 
the clicking of his instrument, and the occasional call of a 
conductor or engineer. Sam used to say that even the 
"ager" would have been a relief to him on some of the 
long, lonesome nights; but the "ager" was not a " night 
owl." It took no mean advantage of a man, but assailed 
him when he was wide awake — unless he slept in the day- 
time, and that was his lookout, not the "ager's." Man 
might reverse nature's laws, but the "ager" wouldn't. 
Sam got the "ager." Got it badly. Got it in the day- 
time. Sometimes it would throttle him before he went to 
bed, and shake him until his teeth would rattle and his 
knees knock together. It would send cold chills down his 
spine, and all over him, until he came to think that some 
one must have attached a wire to him that was connected 
with a frozen battery on "Greenland's icy mountains." 
At other times he would get snugly ensconced in bed, and 
be just in the act of dropping into peaceful repose, when 
he would suddenly experience a cold sensation running up 
his spine, giving him the impression, for a moment, that a 
snake had crawled into his bed, and causing him to 
shudder all over with cold chills of horror. Then the 
' ' tug of war ' ' would begin : Sam striving with i ' might and 
main" to keep himself warm and go to sleep, and the 
4 ager" doing its utmost to keep him cool and awake. 



AN UNKNOWN VISITOR. 9 

The "ager" held dominion as long as it chose to remain. 
When it left, a fever wonld set in that seemed to Sam's ex- 
hausted nature hotter than a fiery furnace seven times 
heated. He would writhe and squirm and kick and 
strike until he "became so weak as to be unable to move a 
muscle. Then, probably, he would fall asleep, but only 
to dream of the most frightful and hideous things that a 
distorted imagination could conceive. In this manner Sam 
passed his days and nights. No sleep at night, and but 
little sleep or rest in the day-time will speedily wear out 
the strongest constitution. Sam was not physically robust, 
but nevertheless possessed a strong will and cheerf ill spirit, 
and no matter how miserable he might feel inwardly, he 
outwardly presented a smiling countenance, and was 
always ready for a joke or a laugh. 

The "ager" kept working at Sam, and Sam continued 
working the wires until he was but a shadow of his former 
self. His friends advised him to resign his position, "cut 
out" as it were, and get away while he was able, or, they 
said, he never would get away alive. Sam ridiculed the 
idea, and laughed at their fears. But such a laugh. It 
was but the wreck of what it once was. His walk, too, 
began to grow unsteady, and his hand to shake when 
using the pen. This did frighten him, and for once he 
wore a solemn countenance. The "ager," moreover, 
began to "hang" to him longer and longer, sometimes 
extending away into the night. 

AN UNKNOWN VISITOR. 

Late one night, or early one morning, when Sam was 
feeling unusually miserable, he was startled by a strange, 
clanking, drawling sound, that proceeded from the farthest 
corner of the depot on the back side. Sam was delirious 
and weak, and besides had just been meditating upon the 
probability of soon having to engage passage into the un- 
known future. Could this be the summons? If so, it 
must be the call of the "Evil One," and straightway all 



10 SAM JOHNSON. 

his misdeeds paraded themselves before his mind, dis- 
torted and magnified a thousand times. Nearer and 
nearer approached the mysterious, grating, . clinking 
sound. Light steps were now and then distinguishable 
from the other sounds. "It is Satan broken loose," 
thought Sam, "with part of his chain dragging after 
him," and he trembled from head to foot, closed the 
window shutters, locked the office door, and waited with 
4 'bated breath " what he now believed to be his certain 
doom. Slowly but steadily the hideous noise moved all 
the way along the platform, around the further end of the 
building, and then toward the office. Sam was in a 
fever of excitement. He hardly realized where he was. 
A minute seemed an age, so dreadful a feeling is suspense. 
Closer and closer drew the infernal fiend, with its infernal 
music, until, finally, it came to the office door, and began 
clawing and scratching for admittance. 

Train No. 4 arrived at Princeton a few minutes late on 
the morning of this catastrophe. The conductor rushed to 
the office to get orders, but could not get in. He knocked 
and kicked furiously on the door, and cursed like — well — 
like a conductor. No response. He looked through the 
ticket window, and saw Sam stretched out on the floor. 
Of course he was asleep ! That was the inevitable conclu- 
sion. Had Sam then aroused from his swoon, no reasoning 
under the heavens would have convinced that conductor 
but that Sam had beeu taking a nap — stealing a march on 
the train dispatcher. But Sam did not revive. He was 
as unconscious of the commotion and fury made to arouse 
him as the iron horse that stood panting and snorting on 
the track outside. The door was broken open, and then 
it was seen that Sam was not asleep. His eyes were wide 
open, staring upward, and glistening like glass beads. 
Cold water was brought and dashed in his face, and, after 
a time, he revived ; but it was some minutes before he re- 
gained strength sufficient to get the order for the conductor, 
and send him on his way. 



" TRICKS OF THE TRADE." 11 

As soon as Sam was relieved that morning he betook 
himself to his bed, and did not leave it nntil called to 
supper. He had fully determined to write his resignation 
that night, and send it to headquarters by the first train. 
It was a bitter humiliation. The only thing that consoled 
him was that old, old saying ; * ' He that fights and runs 
away, may live to fight another day." Sam was still in 
ignorance as to the cause of the, to him, unearthly noises 
of the night before. He would hardly believe it when told 
that they were occasioned by a large dog which had been 
given away, and had got loose from his fastenings and 
came home, dragging a long chain after him. 

Sam wrote no less than four letters of resignation that 
night, and tore every one of them to pieces. Not because 
they were not formally satisfactory, but because he would 
repent of his resolution, and determine to "hold on" a 
little longer — to give the "ager" another tussle for victory. 
One incentive to this was the fact that that very day a night 
watchman had been appointed to keep watch over the 
company's property, particularly the loaded cars in the 
yard. The watchman would be company for Sam, for he 
would be in and out of the depot at all hours of the night. 

"tricks of the trade." 

Occasionally passengers would stay in the depot all, or 
a greater portion of the night. They would generally 
stretch out on the benches or the floor, and go to sleep, 
that is, if Sam would let them, which, however, he seldom 
did. He would say to himself: "I cannot sleep, neither 
shall they." He would permit a man to get just soundly 
asleep, when he would shake him in a vigorous manner, 
and say : "Three dollars and a half to Chicago !" The 
surprised man would stare at him, and answer : ' ' I did 
not ask you the price of a ticket to Chicago, did I?" 
Sam would retort: " Well, I guess you did. You've been 
yelling at me for the last ten minutes to know how much 
you would have to pay to get to Chicago. If you don' t 



12 SAM JOHNSOK. 

know what you are saying when you are asleep, you would 
be better to keep awake." 

The man would get up and walk around, and probably 
not go to sleep again. If he did, Sam would arouse him 
once more, and hollow : "The train leaves for Fort Wayne 
at live fifty ! " The man would look more surprised than 
ever, and say: "I don't want to know when the train 
leaves for Fort Wayne. I'm going to Chicago." 

"You don't!" says Sam, "then why do you ask me, 
and why don' t you hear me when I answer you. I have 
yelled myself hoarse trying to make you understand, but 
you wouldn't be satisfied until I came and shook you. Do 
you always talk in your sleep that way?" This would 
silence him, and he would get up and go out of doors, and 
walk around. It was very seldom that a man would get 
offended when approached in this manner. 

In winter the favorite amusement was to roast them out. 
Wood was plenty, and near at hand. Sam would close 
the doors, heat the stove red hot, and keep it so. Soon 
the sleeper would begin to gasp, to turn over, and struggle 
for breath ; then he would wipe away the perspiration, 
and, finally, sit up, and say: "Operator, don't you think 
it extremely warm in this room now % " 

" O, no ! " says Sam, "it's barely comfortable ; I'm used 
to it. Besides, I've had the 'ager' so much that I can 
almost sit on a red hot stove," and he would move his 
chair closer to the fire. 

This was what Sam called legitimate fun. He said the 
railroad company gave a man passage in the train for him- 
self and a hundred pounds of baggage for one fare, but 
they did not agree to provide him with free lodging at 
both ends of the route. 

A SERIOUS JOKE. 

All new beginners in telegraphy, as in almost every 
other profession, must run the gauntlet of a series of prac- 
tical jokes. Sometimes these jokes terminate q&ite seri- 



A SERIOUS JOKE. 13 

ously, as the following incident in Sam's " schooling/' 
will illustrate. 

One Sunday the day operator went on a visit to Valpa" 
raiso, leaving Sam in charge of the office. A gentleman 
and lady, with their little girl of about two years old, took 
passage on the same train for the same place. Sam was 
intimately acquainted with these parties, and as he was a 
great favorite with the little folks, he and the little girl 
had quite a merry romp around, and in and out of the 
depot before the train started. 

Not long before the train was due at Valparaiso, 
Sam was called, and answering, received the following 
telegram : 

Valparaiso, June 10th. 
To L. E. Phant, (Elephant): 

Your trunk cannot be found here. 

Adam Goodsell. 
(A dam good sell). 
6 Collect. 40. 

Sam returned the usual O. K., signed his private letter, 
and closed the key. 

"Be sure to deliver that message," remarked " V," "if 
you have to go to every house in town." 

Now, this was a stale joke to all but new and verdant 
operators. Sam had read of the same in a book on tele- 
graphy, and so was not to be "taken in" in this manner. 
But he chose to let the senders think he was, and get as 
much satisfaction out of their "little joke" as they 
could. 

Late in the afternoon Sam received another call from 
"V." To his i. i. P., came this message : 

Valparaiso, June 10th. 
To John Simonds, Princeton. 

Come to nine o'clock train with carriage, little Mabel is 
dead. Peter Simonds. 

11 paid. 43. 



14 ' SAM JOHNSON. 

This was too much for even Sam's good nature. He* 
thought it was carrying the joke too far, and replied that 
they had better desist, that he was not "sold" by their 
first message, and would not be by this one. "V" ad- 
mitted that the first was a "sell," but averred that this 
one was genuine, and must be delivered without fail. Sam 
said that that was "too thin," that little Mabel was as 
lively as a cricket when she left there, and that he thought 
such a solemn subject as death ought not to be trifled with. 
" V " urged that it was only too true, that Mabel was ac- 
tually dead, that she had dropped lifeless while playing. 
Sam could not and would not believe it, consequently he 
did not deliver the message. 

The train arrived, and, sad enough, little Mabel was a 
passenger, but not the merry, laughing Mabel who had 
romped about the depot so lively a few hours before, but 
only her dead body. 

There was no carriage at hand, no conveyance for the 
afflicted parents, and their dear child's remains. How 
could this be ? Sam must answer, and he did by saying 
that he forgot to deliver the telegram. There was no time 
to tell the true cause, nor would it have been believed had 
it been told. Sam's heart was too full to talk much. He 
was a great favorite with children, and was particularly 
fond of Mabel. A few hours before she was bright, active, 
and full of life, but now she was stiff and cold in death. 
It made Sam think of the "ager," and his own failing 
strength, and wonder if he mightn't be the next to go. 

MOKE DAKING THAN WISE. 

The night watchman proved to be as much of a night 
sleeper as anything else. When everybody had gone to 
bed, and all was tranquil about the station, the watchman 
would go into the sitting-room, and, remarking that he 
was going to "stretch himself," would deposit his full 
length on one of the seats. He claimed that he never 
slept — 0, no, not he ! Sam thought he did ; at least he 



MORE DARING THAN WISE. 15 

had never heard a man snore so persistently, and with so 
much regularity, when awake. One night he lay down 
with a fine fur cap on his head. Sam said to himself : 
"If he goes to sleep with that fur cap on, I'll take it off, 
and he'll never see it again." And he did. 

The watchman sprang up at the sound of a locomotive 
whistle, felt on his head for his cap, then looked all about 
the room, but could not find it. He dared not accuse Sam 
of taking it, for that would be at once confessing sleep ; 
nor does he know to this day what became of his cap. 
This trick played upon him, cured him for awhile of 
sleeping at his post, but after a time he again fell into the 
habit. 

Sam vowed that he would " spring one on him," the first 
favorable opportunity, that would cure him of sleeping on 
his watch. 

One night Dave Martin, one of Sam's favorite com- 
panions, kept him company. Dave was a giant in stature 
and strength, Sam was a pigmy. When together the con- 
trast was laughable in the extreme. It was the lion and 
the lamb together, but the lamb was the stronger of 
the two. The lamb's will controlled the lion's muscle. 
Toward morning Dave's eyelids began to feel as though a 
pound weight were hanging to each, and he dropped 
asleep. All at once the watchman's nasal bugle gave a 
blast. Dave sprang to his feet, and exclaimed, "What's 
that 1" and stared about as if he expected to see Gabriel, 
trumpet in hand, prepared to sound the judgment day. 

"That is the night watchman blowing his whistle for 
help," said Sam, "doubtless he is dreaming of arresting a 
whole band of car robbers." 

"I'm a sinner if I didn't think some one had shot me," 
said Dave. 

"Now, Dave," said Sam, "if you're in for a 'lark,' and 
will promise not to ' squeal ' if you get in a tight place, 
I'll tell you how we can fix that watchman so that he will 
not sleep on duty again." 



16 SAM JOHNSON. 

" You can rely on me, Sam," said Dave. "I'll follow 
where you lead, and be as mute as a mummy. If I don't 
get at something to stir me up, I'll have to do as the watch- 
man is doing, all but the bugle accompaniment." 

u It's rather a risky job that I'm thinking of," said Sam, 
4 'and I am afraid it may turn out badly for the watch- 
man. I bear him no ill will, and don't want to be the 
cause of Lis losing his situation, but these are war times, 
you know, and the soldier that sleeps at his post ir; 
presence of the enemy deserves death. He is paid for 
keeping awake, and he ought to do it, or not pretend to." 

4 'Don't go to moralizing, and getting tender-hearted, 
Sam," replied Dave ; "suppose that you should go to sleep 
here, and a couple of trains pass that you could tell nothing 
about, why you know that your head would come off so 
quickly that you wouldn't know what hurt you." 

'•That's true enough," said Sam, "but you needn't cal- 
culate on anything of that kind. I am not going to sleep 
here. But now for our 'lark.' You know that there has 
been a good deal of freight missing here lately, from cars 
which were left in the yard over night, loaded. Well, this 
watchman was put on to prevent it, and to detect the 
thieves. " 

"He's doing it now, just listen," said Dave, "If he 
would hire to the government for a fog whistle, and get 
pay according to his deserts, he would soon be a rich 
man." 

"Don't interrupt me again," replied Sam, "for day is 
breaking, and we must carry out our plot before it is 
entirely light, or not at all. 'Evil deeds love darkness,' 
you know, and something seems to tell me that this is one 
of them. What I propose to do is this : we will go out and 
see if we can lind a car that is unlocked. If we do you can 
hoist me into it, and I'll slide a box of something out, 
which we'll take over to the wood pile, and secrete where 
the wood -sawyers will find it the first time they load their 
push car in the morning. Probably they will bring it in 



MORE DARING THAN WISE. 17 

before the watchman is off duty, which will give him a big 
scare, and save him his position." 

"One would think you an old ' cracksman' to hear you 
talk," said Dave, " but come, let us be about it," and they 
stole silently out of the office. They found a car with a 
side door half drawn back. Dave hoisted Sam into the 
car, remaiking that he was as light as a pillow. Sam 
handed out a box of boots, got down from the car, and the 
two hurried away with their plunder, feeling indeed like 
thieves in action if not in intention. They hid their 
' i booty" in the wood pile, and hied back to the depot in 
all haste. There lay the watchman puffing and snorting 
like an engine pulling a heavy train up a hundred and 
sixteen foot grade, utterly unconscious of the magazine 
under him that might explode at any moment and blow 
him out of a " soft snap." 

Sam and Dave sought their respective couches, Dave to 
sleep, dead to all the world, Sam to battle with the 
"ager," alive to indescribable torment. 

Sam was slowly walking to the depot in the evening, 
when, on turning the corner of a building, he met Dave, at 
sight of whom he almost fell to the ground. As soon as 
he could speak he exclaimed: "Gfood heavens! Dave, 
what is the matter ? You are as pale as the moon." 

" Matter, Sam, you may well ask that!" excitedly 
answered Dave; "if you had been in my place to-day, 
you would be a corpse now. I feel as if I had lived a hun- 
dred years since I saw you. Why, Sam, those heathen 
wood-sawyers broke their saw at the first turn of the wheel 
this morning, and couldn't saw any wood, and, of course, 
didn't find the box. The freight was checked out of the 
car, and a box of boats reported short. The watchman 
was questioned, but he could tell nothing about it, only 
that he had been past that car every half hour during the 
night. The agent telegraphed to the superintendent about 
it, and he and three detectives came down from Fort 
Wayne. Somehow they found out that I had been at the 



18 SAM JOHNSON. 

depot last night, and they came and awoke me, and pnt 
me through two honrs of such questioning, cross-question- 
ing, pumping and squeezing, that I feel as interminably 
mixed up as a worm fence struck by lightning. " 
" You didn't tell, though, did you?" queried Sam. 
"No, you can rest assured I didn't," rejoined Dave, 
"but I believe they suspect me, for one of these detectives 
has been "shadowing' me ever since. They'll question 
you as soon as you get to the office, but don't 'peach,' if 
you do we are 'goners.' " 

"Never fear for me, Dave," said Sam. "I've no desire 
for solitary confinement. It's too restraining for a man of 
my energy and aspirations." 

"Energy in you!" ejaculated Dave, and he laughed, 
notwithstanding that his looks but a moment before had 
been as mournful as the gloomiest thoughts of the grave 
could have inspired. Then he added: "Sam, if that 
"ager" stays with you much longer you needn't fear 
going to jail, you can crawl through the keyhole, and give 
them the slip whenever you feel so disposed. Sh — sh ! here 
comes one of those detectives," and they moved ahead. 
As they walked along, Dave said in a whisper: "Sam, 
while you were in the car, the night watchman at the stave 
factory came out, and looked all around. I dodged down 
behind a pile of bolts so that he could not see me. If he 
did not discover you it's all right, but if he did then it's 
'good-bye, Liza Jane.'" 

"O, hush!" said Sam, "turn and go down that street, 
(pointing), don't keep with me. Don't you see that that 
' cop ' is watching us % " 

Sam found things even in a worse state of excitement 
than Dave had represented. The railroad magnates were 
on hand in full force. The simple disappearance of one 
box of boots was not what caused the furore, but the many 
similar occurrences preceding, and the seemingly mys- 
terious manner of their "taking off." Sam was thor- 
oughly "interviewed," but he could not throw any light 



" THROWS UP THE SPONGE." 19 

upon the matter. No one cast any suspicion upon Mm. 
Every one who knew him knew that he could not spoil a 
joke to save a friend, and they believed just as sincerely 
that he was "as honest as daylight." And so he was, 
intentionally. Sam's love of adventure and fun often 
made him commit rash acts for which he was afterward 
sorry. This was one of them . The watchman lost his sit- 
uation. The box was found in the wood-pile. Sam and 
Dave are the only persons who know to this day how it 
got there. 

" THROWS UP THE SPONGE." 

The "ager" was still Sam's best friend, if one can judge 
by the way it stood by him. It never deserted him in time 
of trouble. That was the trouble that troubled Sam. 
Everything has its mission, and is created for some good — 
even the "ager." It saved Sam's life. One dark night 
he had a message for the engineer of train No. 4. The 
engine was taking wood just below the water house. 
Sam started to deliver the message without taking his 
lantern. As he was passing between, the water-house and 
the car next to the engine, his foot slipped on the ice, and 
he slid down between the wheels of the forward trucks, 
with his body across the rail. He tried to pull himself 
out, but he was too weak. He thought of shouting for 
help, but just then the train began to move, and he must 
act at once if he wished to be saved. There was no alter- 
native but to slide back upon the track, and allow the 
train to pass over him, if it would. Here's where the 
"ager" served Sam a good turn. It had wasted him 
away so that he was but little thicker than a postage 
stamp. The way Sam adhered to that track would have 
put to shame the best mucilage ever invented. The whole 
train passed over him without inflicting even a scratch as a 
reminder that it recognized him and applauded his hero- 
ism. He arose from his dangerous situation almost life- 
less from fright. He could not walk, but crawled on his 



20 sam johnson: 

hands and knees back to the office. As soon as he had 
sufficiently recovered to be able to write, he sat down to 
the desk, and penned his resignation in these words : 

"0. H. B., Supt., Mansfield, O. 
"'Ager'wins. I'm a ghost. Send a fresh victim. 

Sam Johnson.' ' 

For fifteen months Sam had been a faithful " night owl,'' 
and only succumbed to what seemed inevitable fate. 
He did not belie the cognomen "owl," either. He had 
dwindled away to such a skeleton that his large, rolling 
eyes, in contrast to his sharp nose and pointed chin, seemed 
to bulge out of their sockets like the round crystal of a 
bull's-eye watch. But Sam is gone. While he is recruit- 
ing for another attack, let us see what he has left behind 
him. He was a pretty close observer, and loved to study 
character as depicted in men's faces and developed by 
their actions. He was also somewhat of a composer, 
and used to fill in the lagging hours by putting his 
thoughts on paper. Here is one of his productions en- 
titled : 

"why do all eaileoadees sweae?" 

They are obliged to ; it is a necessity. The human sys- 
tem is so constituted that when the feelings are unduly 
excited or depressed, the superabundance of emotion must 
find a mode of escape. Prosperity and joviality produce 
laughter. Grief and misfortune escape in tears and sighs, 
but the railroader's excitement is of a different nature, 
and demands a different remedy. The causes that most 
frequently disturb the equanimity of the railroader are 
anxiety, watchfulness, danger, the uncertainty of the per- 
manency of his situation, and the certainty that all his 
actions are scrutinized by the Argus eyes of his superiors. 
There is no food for hilarity here, nor will despondency 
relieve this condition of the mind of its strain. It is an 
impulse of anger and impetuosity, it agitates the whole 



"WHY do all railroaders swear?" 21 

body and mind in a twinkling. Like the rainbow, "It is 
born in a moment, yet, quick as its birth, It has stretched 
to the uttermost ends of the earth." Nothing will relieve 
it but an instantaneous gush of words, a flood of adjectives 
bristling with exclamation points. Swearing, in a railroad 
sense, is simply a proline use of words without reference 
to, or care for their meaning. It is the intent to kill that 
makes killing murder, and so it is the intent to be pro- 
fane that makes swearing profanity. Railroaders, with 
scarcely an exception, are good-natured, sociable, and 
free hearted, particularly among themselves. They are 
generally men of more than ordinary intelligence and 
respectability, therefore it must be admitted that they do 
not swear solely from evil motives, but that it is the effect 
of a cause begotten of necessity, and which has probably 
become a habit — a railroad institution. I will place a few 
witnesses on the stand to corroborate the foregoing : 

"Van Adams, come forward and be sworn. State to the 
jury what you know about the case now on trial." 

"Before I turned my attention to railroading," said 
Yan, "I was a devout Christian, a strict church member, 
obeying both the letter and the spirit of the law. I would 
as soon have thought of jumping into a lion's den as of 
polluting my lips with an oath. Ambitious to begin busi- 
ness life for myself, I went West, and not finding anything 
more remunerative, took charge of a gang of fifty laborers 
building a new railroad. It was to the company's interest 
to get as much work out of the men as possible, and to the 
foreman's interest to forward the company's. I was par- 
ticularly desirous of making a good 'showing' for my- 
self, for on a new road promotion is rapid. At the same 
time I did not wish to be overbearing or hard on the men. 
I spoke to them mildly, but earnestly. Well, the second 
day of my service my superior in authority came to me 
and said: 'Mr. Adams, what is the trouble? your men 
do not work, you are getting nothing done, this will not 
do.' 



22 SAM JOHNSON. 

"That information stunned me, and caused me much 
uneasiness. I urged and drove the men with all the se- 
verity that my Christian spirit would allow. Still, I did 
not make the headway that I should, and that the other 
gangs did. At the end of my first week's foremanship, 
the division track builder called me into his office, and 
said, plainly: 'Adams, you have not given satisfaction 
this week, but we will try you another week, then, if we 
see that you cannot get the work out of the men that 
others do, you will have to retire.' 

"Here was a dilemma. How to remedy it was the quan- 
dary that worried me almost to distraction. I decided to 
go to one of the other foremen, and see if he could tell me 
how I could put spirit into my men, and get them to do 
more work. To my query: 'Why do your men do 
double the work mine do ? ' he answered : ' Go look in the 
glass.' 

"Here was another puzzle. What could he mean? 
I said: 'I don't understand you, please explain.' He 
laughed, and replied ; ' No man with a solemn, forbearing 
countenance like yours can be successful on a railroad. 
I have read somewhere that there is a time to preach, a 
time to pray, a time to weep, and a time to rejoice, and so 
there is, and the writer might have added, 'a time to 
swear, ' too, and the place to do so most advantageously is 
on a railroad — nothing else will answer. Why, my friend, 
those men of ours expect it, they have been educated to it, 
they can't work without it — it is the battery that fires up 
their nerves, and makes them lively and energetic. Come 
over where I am working, Monday, and I will give you a 
lesson ; and if you will ' go and do likewise,' you will have 
no more trouble.' 

" I was amazed, shocked. I vowed I would surren- 
der my position and future prospects before I would com- 
mit such an immoral act. Monday came. The men went 
to work. I exerted myself in every manner possible to get 
them to 'rush things,' but it was no use. I 'lost my 



"WHY do all railroaders swear?" 23 

balance.' Forbearance ceased to be a virtue. I went to 
my adviser for the promised lesson, got it, and came back 
perfectly desperate — enraged. The men saw it, and im- 
mediately all hands flew at their work as if they were 
determined to build a hundred miles of track that day. 
Too late. The tide had set in, and could not be kept back. 
I pelted them with a fusillade of Billingsgate, such as they 
had never heard before — not only once, but all through 
the day. 

"They did as much work that day as they had done the 
whole week before, and what was more strange to me, 
they respected' me a great deal more than before. That 
was my experience then, and it has been verified a thou- 
sand times since. I don't approve of swearing when it can 
be avoided, but I conscientiously believe there are times 
in a railroader's life when it is actually necessary." 

"Sam Johnson, hold up your right hand, and take the 
oath. Now, state what you know about the subject under 
consideration." 

"One night, just after train No. 4 was due at Hanna, a 

station twenty -five miles west, my instrument began to 

click my call. I answered promptly. The operator at 

Hanna began : 

« Hanna, 21st. 

"<To .' Here my local battery collapsed. I had 

the poorest relay on the line — new beginners always have. 

If I had had ears as large as Balaam' s celebrated steed, I 

could not have distinguished one letter from another by 

it. My local was on the ground beneath my office. To 

get to it I had to go through the dining room and kitchen 

of the eating house. To get through them I had to arouse 

the cook, to get her to unlock the doors. This particular 

cook was an American lady, born in Ireland. She was 

averse to being awakened in the night, and much more 

opposed to getting up after she had been awakened. 

I had tried it once before, and had been the recipient of 

such a tirade of abuse from her that the din and clatter did 



24 SAM JOHNSON. 

not get ont of my head for a week after. I would rather 
have had an attack of the measles than to have disturbed 
her again, but there was no escaping it. 'Hanna' was 
still calling me furiously, and I must get the battery re- 
cruited, no matter what she threw at me — visible or invisi- 
ble objects. I went to the window, and called : ' Bridget ! 
Bridget ! ' with all the power of my lungs. No reply. 
I rapped on the window : ' Thieves ! thieves ! murder ! 
murder! Go 'way wid yees. Would yees be after rob- 
bin' a poor, hard workin' sarvant girl, that's not got a 
blessed penny to her name. Shame on yees.' 

" 'It's not thieves, Bridget,' said I, 'it is I, Sam John- 
son. I want to get down beneath the house to clean the 
battery. Please hurry, the train will soon be here.' 

' "The divil's born imp yees 'are, Sam,' said Bridget, 
'for skeerin the life clane out 'o me. An' sure it's me 
heart that's chokin me now.' 

" 'Stop talking, and let me in, or I'll break the door 
down,' I said, 'I won't wait five minutes longer.' 

"'Break the door down ! ' retorted Bridget, ironically, 
'did yees know yees wasn't bigger than a shrimp. Go 
'way wid yees, and don't be rushin' in as soon as I 
unlock the door. If yees do, I'll break yer head with the 
lamp.' 

"Here was a precious half hour wasted. It took me 
fifteen minutes longer to get the battery in order. Then I 
got the message, which was to the car repairer, ordering 
him to be on hand when No/ 4 arrived with new brass for 
a hot box. The car repairer lived five blocks away. He 
got to the depot just as the train arrived. He had to go a 
few steps to the shop for his tools. It would not take a 
moment. He was gone when the conductor got off the 
train, and accosted me with : ' Where is that repairer ? 
Why isn't he here \ ' 

"I answered, 'He has gone to the shop for his tools, he 
will be here in a minute.' 

" 'Be here in a minute ! ' repeated the conductor, ' didn't 
you get a dispatch to have him here when I arrived.' 



"WHY do all railroaders swear?" 25 

" 'I did not get the message in time,' I said. 

" ' Sandwiches without bread and butter!' he wrath- 
fully exclaimed, ' may Satan take me for a door mat if I 
don't report that miscreant operator at Hanna to the super- 
intendent before I am a day older, and have him jerked 
out of there quicker than the lightning he slings. You 
scarecrows of darkness! why can't you attend to business 
promptly ? ' 

" 'If you report any one, report me, I am to blame,' 
I said. 

" He stared at me a moment as if he would sting me to 
death with the venom in his eyes, and then exclaimed, with 
vehement emphasis: 'It was you, was it? I might have 
known it. You fossil ! you petrified skeleton ! you owl- 
eyed mummy ! you king of drones ! You weren't asleep % 
Don't say that! Don't talk back ! I'll spit on you, and 
drown you. Asleep ! you're always asleep. You're a 
walking nightmare, an eternal somnambulist. You can 
sleep to-day, to-night, forever ! You needn't trouble your- 
self to awake. I'll fix you ! You'll not be wanted here 
again ! ' and he walked to and fro on the platform, puffing 
like a porpoise, until the train was ready to leave. 

"The next time he came along he rushed into the office, 
grabbed me by the hand, and exclaimed: 'Halloa, Sam, 
you here yet? Of course you are ! and you'll stay here 
until you dry up and blow away, if you want to, so far as 
I am concerned. Never mind me, Sam, I must blow off 
sometimes, or I' d burst. You never saw a railroader that 
wouldn't. They have so much excitement that they can't 
stand it, and keep the safety-valve closed all the time. 
Ta, ta! I'm away.' 

" Jim Blair was as polite and gentlemanly a conductor 
as ever punched a ticket, and as cool and even-tempered 
as a deacon. There was but one lady operator on the road 
in Jim's day. She was an experiment in the business, and 
therefore attracted attention. The lady was young and 
handsome, and so was Jim. So much the worse for the 
sequel. 



26 SAM JOHNSON. 

"Jim started out of Chicago with train No. 2, at eight 
o'clock a. m., one fearfully stormy winter morning. He 
was due at Pearson, where the lady presided at the key, 
at, 12:10 p. m. Instead of reaching there on time, he was 
just twenty-four hours late. His train had been snowed 
in, dug out, and snowed in again. ~No one but a rail- 
roader can form a just idea of the responsibility and labor 
devolving upon a conductor in an emergency like this. 
Anxiety to avoid collisions and unforseen dangers ; the 
fear of wood or water giving out ; the persistent, earnest 
questioning of passengers, and the bitter, pinching cold 
and drifting, blinding snow, all serve to work his nerves up 
to the highest pitch of excitement. 

" Jim entered the office at Pearson, mechanically, au- 
tomatically, from the force of habit, utterly blind to what 
he went there for, and to the fact that the operator was a 
lady. As he entered the door, Miss Myers — that was her 
name — accosted him pleasantly with, 'G-ood afternoon, 
Mr. Blair, I have several orders for you.' 

"Without seeming to recognize the speaker, Jim un- 
burdened himself thus : ' To perdition with you and your 
orders ! I'm padded with them, I'm smothered with them, 
I'm sick of them, I've had nothing but orders, orders, or- 
ders for twenty- four hours. One pulls rne this way, 
another that way. One starts me ahead, another stops 
me. One says go to such a place to meet such a train, 
another revokes it, and so they come, forever and forever. 
Well, what have you got? trot them out,' and he dropped 
his eyes, and met those of Miss Myers. Jim saw the tears 
standing in them. Then it dawned upon him to whom he 
had been talking, and what he had been saying, and he 
turned about, ran out to his train, signaled it to go ahead, 
jumped aboard, and sped away without his orders. Re- 
sult — Jim lost his situation.' 

"It's my deliberate opinion that railroads would be a 
failure were the employes forbidden to speak above the 
common key, and restricted to words of four or less syl- 
lables." 



WHY DO ALL CONDUCTOES " KNOCK DOWN?" 27 

"Why do all conductors ' knock down?'" Because 
they are human, because they are tempted, because they 
are suspected. It is said that poets are born, not made. 
Poets have existed in all ages, and were doubtless con- 
ceived in the mind of the Creator when He first thought of 
giving man to the world. Not so with railroad conductors. 
They are the creatures of a very late necessity. Even if 
their existence at the present day had been foreseen from 
the beginning, so changeable is humanity that it is simply 
sublime ridiculousness to advance the idea that a peculiar 
germ or faculty could have been implanted in man's or- 
ganization, that should ripen and bring forth what might be 
termed a "born railroad conductor," six thousand years 
afterward. Therefore we will have to admit that the call- 
ing of " conductor" was not provided for from the begin- 
ning ; in other words, that he is not of divine origin, only 
as a man. He is human, and it is " human to err." This 
amplifies one reason why the conductor "knocks down." 

Temptation is the immediate cause of one-half the crimes 
committed by man. Temptation is always before the con- 
ductor. He is every day receiving money that he can ap- 
propriate to himself, or hand over to its rightful owners, as 
he pleases, and the consequences will be the same. This, 
taken in connection with the fact that he is branded as a 
pilferer, not only by his employers, but by the public, by 
every one, is an almost irresistible incentive to do that which 
he is believed to do, whether he does it or not. The reason 
for the unanimity of the people upon this verdict is one of 
the things past finding out, unless it be that "the wish is 
father to the thought." It is a sweeping assertion, but I 
can truthfully say that I have never met a man who would 
not take advantage of a railroad company, if he could, or 
who was not pleased to hear that some other person had 
done so. I know a man who is above reproach among his 
neighbors, and whose honesty is never questioned, yet that 
man took three tickets from a railroad agent, paying only 
for two, and exulted over it afterward. He knew, too, that 



28 SAM JOHNSON. 

the agent, and not the company, would lose the price of the 
ticket unpaid for by him ; yet he didn't seem to have any 
compunction of conscience about it, until I told him he 
might just as well have picked that agent's pockets of six 
dollars as not to have returned the extra ticket, whereupon 
he throttled me and choked me until I was black in the 
face. This being the feeling of the company and of the 
public toward conductors, is it surprising to hear one of 
them reason in this way: "Here is ten dollars that the 
company says I have 'knocked down' to-day. The people 
all say the same. If I do not ' take ' it, the company has 
lied, the people have lied. Is it not, therefore, better that 
one man should sin than a million ? The majority rule in 
this country. I give way to the majority. I have ' taken' 
the ten dollars." 

I do not believe that conductors, as a class, are more dis- 
honest than other persons similarly circumstanced. Their 
situations are very uncertain, their expenses heavy, and 
they are under continual excitement, and are guilty before 
the world, whether they "knock down" or not. Their 
little manipulations certainly pale in comparison with the 
gigantic ^^-appropriations of their superiors in authority. 
But two wrongs will not make a right. Until they do, all 
railroad conductors will continue to "knock down." 

TELEGRAPHING EXTRAORDINARY. 

I performed a feat of train reportiag last night that is 
rarely accomplished successfully ; at least I suppose I did 
it, but it's only supposition, as the sequel will show. But 
have patience while I explain the circumstances that occa- 
sioned it. Early yesterday morning passenger train No. 3, 
bound west, was speeding along at the rate of thirty miles 
an hour, when, about two miles east of Wasatch, twenty- 
five miles east of this station, she ran over a cow that was 
sleeping on the track, doubtless dreaming of pastures green, 
and wholly unconscious of the dangers of the iron horse. 
The engine "flew the track" down a ten foot bank, pulling 



TELEGRAPHING EXTRAORDINARY. 29 

the train after it. The train consisted of one mail, one ex- 
press, one baggage car and seven coaches. The coaches 
were all heavily laden with human freight. The baggage 
car was third from the engine, and, breaking away from 
the others, it bounded over the express and mail car, and 
landed on the engine, smashing in the cab, killing the en- 
gineer, and seriously wounding the fireman. In the bag- 
gage car was old Pap McGfinnis, the line repairer, to whom 
it was attributed that he could smell an escape in a line, no 
matter how small. He was one of the first line builders in 
•the service, and was proud of his vocation and well-earned 
reputation. To be out on the line, day or night, rain or 
shine, was his chief delight. His conduct on the occasion 
of this accident illustrates the wonderful influence habit 
wields over the faculties, even at death' s door. His ladder, 
being too long to take into the car, had been fastened on 
top. The miraculous leap of the car he was in, and its 
sudden halt on the engine, threw Pap forward, with his face 
against the side of the stove, which was hot enough to burn, 
though not badly. A trunk, or a valise, or a chest would 
light upon Pap, then bound off, or be knocked off by an- 
other with more accelerated motion, each in its turn leaving 
its card with Pap, in the shape of bruised shoulders, skinned 
shins, scarred head and bleeding cuts. 

The Superintendent of Telegraph happened to be on board 
the train, in the rear car, which ran off the track, but did 
not upset, and consequently no one in that car was injured. 
He hastened to the baggage car, expecting to find Pap a 
mangled corpse. The car door was soon broken open, but 
the baggage was in such confusion and disorder that no one 
could be seen. The Superintendent called, "McGrinnis! 
McGrinnis ! " then listened. A very faint answer made its 
zigzag way to him through the medley of trunks : "Here, 
sir! Here, sir! I'm flat on me face; there's a Saratoga on 
me back, a hot stove at me face, an' the divil's own lot o' 
traps on me legs an' fate. Was me long ladder that was 
on top of the car broken?" At this last question the Su- 



30 SAM JOHNSON. 

perintendent could not but smile, though the air was rent 
with the screams and groans of the injured and frightened 
around him. Pap was released from his prison as quickly 
as possible. No bones were broken, but every inch of his 
iiesh was terribly lacerated, and one side of his face was 
baked to a crisp. Pap was laid up for a month. This 
forced retirement from active duty hurt his pride and feel- 
ings far more than his actual injuries did. 

Five of the passenger coaches were literally "ground to 
splinters," but, impossible as it may seem, not a person in 
them was killed, though none escaped uninjured. 

The wrecking train was starting to the scene of the acci- 
dent just as the "day man" came into the office. More 
curious than wise, I leaped aboard. When we arrived, the 
Superintendent had taken down a wire, attached his pocket 
instrument, and was sitting on a stump, sending and re- 
ceiving messages. I tried to "dodge" him and keep out 
of his sight, but failed. He was posted in our ways, and 
was doubtless on the lookout for one of us. 

"This way, Johnson," he hallooed, as I was moving to- 
ward the part of the wreck farthest from him. 

I was obliged to obey his summons, and doomed, I knew, 
to a seat for an indefinite time on that stump. I relieved 
him. Think of a Superintendent being relieved by a " night 
owl." Ye gods ! how the mighty have fallen ! Ye experts 
in the profession, envy me the glory. Alas, such glory ! 
Click, click, click ; write, write, write, and hammer the di- 
minutive key incessantly, until live o'clock p. m. consti- 
tuted the glory. About noon the Superintendent left me, 
saying he would walk down to Wasatch and send up the 
day operator to relieve me, and then I could come down, 
get something to eat, and probably get a little sleep before 
the wrecking train started back. 

The slow, dragging hours wore away, and wore on me 
most pitilessly. A stump is a miserable seat at best. No 
support for the back, no rest for the feet, and where there 
should be a cushion, a roughness that, for excruciating tor- 



TELEGRAPHING EXTRAORDINARY. 31 

ture, would have put to shame the horrors of the Inquisi- 
tion. If the man who felled the tree that once waved proud- 
ly over the spot whereon I sat had a foreknowledge of the 
use to which the stump would to-day be put, he showed 
himself devoid of pity and soul ; and, if I can learn his 
name, he shall receive the execrations of the telegraphic 
fraternity throughout all time. 

My promised relief did not come. I dared not leave my 
post (stump) for a moment. My feet and legs "became 
swollen and painful ; my back and shoulders began to ache 
most distressingly. In this condition the "ager" attacked 
me in " full force," doubtless thinking "Now's the day 
and now the hour" to break my determined spirit, and to 
carry off the " spoils of victory," or, in other words, my 
life. No sleep since the afternoon before, no breakfast, no 
dinner, no rest. My stomach was begging for food, my 
eyelids were heavy with sleep, and my brain was dizzy with 
the accumulated griefs of my whole body. I actually be- 
lieve that I should have " given up the. ghost" then and 
there, had I had time. Few railroaders die with the " har- 
ness" on, unless accidentally killed. Time, to them, is too 
precious to be frittered away for any such useless consid- 
eration. I am not certain, had the angel of death ap- 
proached me on that stump, with drawn sword, and with 
murder in his heart, but that he would have blushed for 
shame at my wretched condition, sheathed his sword, and 
departed in disgust. But I survived the ordeal, though 
more dead than alive. 

About five o'clock p. m. the track was cleared, and 
trains got under headway. I got down from my " roost," 
disconnected my instrument, repaired the break in the line, 
climbed into the tender of the engine of the wrecking train, 
stretched out on the wood and went to sleep, and did not 
awake until the train arrived here, and the fireman turned 
the engine hose in my face. I had barely time to get my 
supper and return to the office to go on watch promptly at 
seven o'clock p. m. 



32 SAM JOHNSON. 

At 9:15 p. m., passenger train No. 6 was due, going east. 
Until it had passed, the depot was all life and activity— a 
rush for tickets, baggage checks, sending telegrams, fare- 
wells, kisses and tears. After this train had departed the 
depot began to relapse into silence, and by ten o'clock I 
was generally the only sonl left awake in and about the 
station. Solitude is drowsy company, even in daytime, 
and when one has had his proper hours of repose, but 
when for this we substitute the absence of refreshing sleep 
for thirty hours (to the latter fifteen of which for weari- 
some labor and misery no description can do justice), 
breathless stillness and the natural gloom that darkness 
suggests, should one be censured for unconsciously falling 
into the arms of Morpheus ? 

Freight train No. 12 was due at Princeton at 11:10 p. m., 
and train No. 18 at 12:17 a.m. If I could keep awake until 
these trains passed, I could then take a couple of hours 
sleep. But here was the "rub." My eyes would close 
and my head droop, notwithstanding that I bathed my 
face with cold water every few minutes. I resolved to try 
the out-door air, and went out and walked to and fro on 
the platform. Here, too, sleep came upon me. But I was 
suddenly aroused by walking off the end of the platform, 
falling on my face, and bruising myself. 

Train No. 12 passed. I reported it, drew my chair to 
the table, bowed my head with my ear to the sounder, 
believing that should I fall soundly asleep (of which there 
was no doubt), the repetition of my call would awake me. 
After what had seemed but a few moments, I sprang up, 
wide awake. The next act was to look at my watch. 
"What! can it be possible? 12.30 a. m. ? No, no! I 
must be mistaken. It is, truly!" I exclaimed, greatly 
agitated. Where is No. 18? Has it passed, or has it 
not? That was the question that distressed me. "To be, 
or not to be," was insignificant in comparison with it. 
I rushed out to see if I could find some one to enlighten 
me. "Not a sound was heard, not a funeral note," but 



TELEGRAPHING EXTRAORDINARY. 33 

the death knell of my own "taking off," as an operator, 
rang loudly in my ears, unstringing my nerves, and giving 
me an aching heart. It was not so much the loss of my 
situation that smote me, as the disgrace attending it. 
I went back into the office, expecting every moment to be 
called, and asked for a report of the train. The moments 
wore away, but the call did not come. The longer it was 
delayed, the worse for me. The train was probably late, 
and I would have orders to hold it until No.. 11 arrived. 
Should I receive the order, giving O. K. to it, and the 
train had passed, there would be a collision, some one 
killed, and I would be the murderer; and cold chills of 
horror crept over me that almost palsied my limbs. 
Chancing to look at my train register sheet I saw — 
"What! merciful Providence! can it be that Thou hast 
intervened to save me % " In the column and place for No. 
18' s report, was its, to me, unknown arrival and departure 
in figures, in ink. Could it be possible that the train had 
come and gone, that I had noted its arrival and departure 
on the register, and reported the same to the dispatcher, 
in my sleep % It was too astonishing for belief, much as I 
desired that it might have been done. Yet, had I not done 
so I should most assuredly have been asked for a report 
ere this. "Probably the line is open, I thought," and I 
proceeded to test it. It never worked better. I had 
undoubtedly reported the train in my sleep ! 

While I was pondering over this most strange affair, 
Loran Hodge, who was conductor of train No. 18 last 
night, came along on No. 11. As soon as he saw me, he 
said: "Sam, what in the 'bloody mischief ailed you 
last night ? I came into the office to learn how No. 11 was 
running, and found you leaning over on the table as 
unconscious as 'The Rock of Ages.' I pulled your ears, 
pinched your arms, and shook you until I was ashamed 
of. myself, and then left in disgust." 

I will not question anything marvelous hereafter. I am 



34 SAM JOHNSON. 

ready to believe that the moon is a big cheese — as soon as 
I " sample it." 

A EEVELATION. 

A week ago to-day I went down to Valparaiso to see 
my friend Bob Slade, who has held the position of night 
operator there for a year past. He had not been at his 
post for several nights, and I thonght I would run down 
and stir him up. I found him abed. To my ' ' Halloa ! 
Bob, what are you doing here?" he opened his large, 
gray eyes, looked me in the face, and then said in a 
whisper, 

" Sam, you've got it." 

" Got what?" I asked. 

"Got what I have." 

" What have you got?" I interrogated, with increasing 
curiosity. 

" Don't know," he whispered faintly, and closed his 
eyes. 

"I know what I've got, or rather what's got me. It's 
the 'ager,'" I said; "Did you ever have the 'ager,' 
Bob?" 

He shook his head. x 

"Are you very sick?" Tasked, brushiug back his long, 
black, disheveled hair from over his wrinkled forehead. 

"Not sick at all," he answered. 

" Then why don't you get up, and get out into the fresh 
air ? " I exclaimed, astonished at his reply. 

"Can't," was his faint reply. 

" Is your back broken ? " 

He shook his head. 

"Are any of your limbs broken ? " 

Same retort. 

"O, I see, now," I said, sarcastically; "your neck is 
broken." 

He reached out his fleshless hand, pulled my head down 
to his, and, speaking in a low whisper, said: "Sam, no 
joking, but keep adjusted ; my battery is mighty weak, 



A "SOFT SNAP." 35 

may go down at any moment. I suffer none, Sam. I ex- 
perience no pain, but I have no strength. My head and 
hands are all I can move. I've an idea, Sam, that elec- 
tricity is the life that is within us, and when that is ex- 
hausted we're dead. I've been thinking, too, Sam, that 
as the philosophers say action and re-action are equal, so 
it is with electricity ; and if we manipulate something that 
is constantly conducting our electricity — our life — away, 
like these telegraph lines that we work, and we don' t get 
the same quantity back in some manner, that we'll just 
unconsciously flit away, and weaken, and die, just as 
though we had gone to sleep." 

His hand fell from my head, I gazed into his face, saw 
no signs of life, and then called lustily for help. The 
landlady came in, looked at him unconcernedly, and 
said : u O, never mind, he is taking a nap." 

That is the last I ever saw of Bob. Poor fellow, he was 
buried to-day. I hope he was not inspired when he im- 
parted to me his theory of life and electricity. Operators 
are full of life and energy, I know — they are obliged to 
be. However, they have not as many lives as a cat, that 
they can afford to have them drawn out and distributed 
over a hundred thousand miles of wire. 

a "soft snap." 

** Here's a bottle and an honest friend : 
Wha wad ye wish for mair. man ? 
Wha kens before his life may end, 

What his share may be o' care, man ? 
Then catch the moments as they fly, 

And use them as ye ought, man, 
Believe me, happiness is shy, 
And comes na aye when sought, man." 

Tve been revelling in a sea of bliss, a kind of earthly 
paradise, for the past few nights, brought about by a little 
flirtation with the tempter. The "heavy man "at the 
freight house is a jolly fellow, and an expert at sampling 
li forbidden fruit" in a sly way. Pete and I are "two 



36 SAM JOHNSON. 

hale fellows well met." Pete scented a barrel of black- 
berry brandy that had come all the way from Harper's 
Ferry, Virginia, the garden spot for blackberries. It was 
marked A 1. Pete knocked a hoop to one side, inserted a 
gimlet, filled a jug with the precious fluid, plugged the 
gimlet hole, replaced the hoop, and "all is well/' What's 
Pete's is mine, andwhat's mine is Pete's, consequently he 
shared the brandy with me. It is delicious— superb — 
ropy, and thick as cream. None of the "make drunk" 
kind, but a mild stimulant that keeps one in a kind of 
honeymoon state all the while. It comes nearer my idea 
of what should constitute the " milk of human kindness " 
than anything I ever imbibed." 

A BUSH OF THE FAIR. 

Our division has lately received an addition to its force 
of two lady operators — sisters, twins into the bargain, 
and Yankees besides. One of them is located at Borden- 
town, the other at this station. They are as prim, precise 
and proper as any two old maids ever were. By the way, 
however, "our twins" are not old maids. They are as 
much alike in form and feature as two eggs, and are always 
dressed alike, to the very pins in their clothes. They con- 
sult every evening as to what shall be worn the day follow- 
ing. I have frequently seen passengers, who had seen the 
one at Bordentown standing in the office door as the train 
started away, and who on arriving here, seeing her sister 
(not knowing it to be her sister), would stand and gaze at 
her most impolitely, perfectly unconscious of their rude- 
ness, wondering how she could have got here ahead of 
them. Sometimes they would turn away without solving 
the mystery, while others would exclaim: "Well, how 
did you get here so quickly? Didn't we leave you at 
Bordentown?" 

She would laugh and reply, "Oh! that was my sister, 
my twin sister."* 

Fred Black, an operator at the stock yards, Chicago, 



A BUSH OF THE FAIR. 37 

" sprung" a question on the one at this office one day, of 
rather doubtful propriety. He said to "our " fair manip- 
ulator — 

"Have you a sister at Bordentown ? " 

" Yes, sir, thank you," was the reply. 

"A twin sister?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Which is the older ? " was the next shocking question. 

There was no reply, but if Fred could have seen the fire 
in " our" lady's eyes, and the nervous working of her fin- 
gers, he would have been doubly thankful for not being 
"come-at-able." 



SECOND EPOCH. 



VAN WERT. 



Sam Johnson left Princeton and betook himself to his 
father's home, in Ohio, a walking shadow. Yet, thongh 
weak in body, he was still strong in faith, and confident 
that he wonld ultimately "outride the storm," outstrip the 
"ager," renew his life's battery, and be all the brighter 
and stronger for his experience. 

Sam had kept awake at night and slept in the daytime 
so long, and so punctually and systematically, that this 
condition of things had almost become second nature to 
him, so that when he began sleeping at night again he was 
as restless and uneasy as a bird in its cage. When he did 
get to sleep it was only to dream of whistling locomotives, 
passing trains, the flurry and hurry of travelers, clicking in- 
struments, and lightning dispatches. But a greater annoy- 
ance than this began to work upon Sam's brain. Every- 
thing that his eye rested upon seemed to swim in the air, 
to jostle about, to work to and fro, and around and around. 
He was not dizzy nor unsteady himself, and was perfectly 
rational. He knew that all things were not in motion and 
commotion, as they appeared to him. At first he treated 
this phenomenon of nature derisively, thinking it was the 
dying spasm of the "ager." But when it had continued a 
week, and was still increasing in intensity, he began to be 
alarmed. Was it possible that he was becoming deranged ? 
Was his mind getting weaker and weaker? " Well, there 
is no remedy but silence," he thought. "My malady is 
not noticed by others. I'll nurse the -canker in my own 
mind until it eats it up or is eaten up." The determina- 
tion to fight the battle to the death, if need be, turned the 
scale. "Where there's a will there's a way." He began 



A WARM RECEPTION. 39 

to recover his wandering faculties, and to see things as 
they really were. 

This bewildered state of his mind was doubtless occa- 
sioned by a conflict of first and second nature ; by light 
and darkness struggling for the control of his system. 

Two months of rest and idleness restored Sam's lost 
strength, and rendered him as fresh and ambitious as he 
ever was. He once more "panted" for the fray. He was 
not compelled to pant long, but was soon summoned to pre- 
pare for battle. The welcome news came in this shape : 

Crestline, (X, October 1st 
Sam Johnson, Yan Wert : 

Be at depot on arrival of train No. 1, ready to go to 

Wasatch, to relieve the night operator. O. H. B." 

Sam was on hand at the train, went to Wasatch, arrived 
there at 9:10 p. m., and was immediately clothed with the 
toga of "all night man," and was happy. True, he was 
in Indiana, the land of chills and fever. He might get the 
"ager" again. What might occur did not trouble Sam. 
He was not one of the sorrow-seeking kind. He stuck a 
pencil behind one ear, a pen behind the other, and drew his 
chair to the instrument table, prepared for business, as 
wide-awake and as patient as a cat watching for a mouse. 
The night wore away, and at 7 a. m. Sam locked the office, 
and started up-town to the hotel, before the day operator 
arrived. As the day operator was not expected until eight 
o'clock, and the trains were on time, he was at liberty to 

go- 

A WARM RECEPTION. 

Sam had never been in Wasatch before, except to pass 
through it on the railroad, and that only skirted the su- 
burbs. Imagine his surprise, then, as he was passing 
meditatively along one of the business streets, to have a 
man rush out of a clothing store, grab his hand and shake 
it enthusiastically, exclaiming: "Sam, I am glad to see 
you. Looking better, too ! When did you arrive % Going 



40 SAM .JOHjN t SOK\ 

to stay long % Call in before yon go. Gnarantee to snit yon 
in qnality and price better than any house in town," and 
he grinned all over his face. 

Sam conld not make ont who his interrogator was, nor 
what he meant, nor did he tronble himself to find ont. If 
the man knew him, all right. If he didn't know him, all 
right. If he was perpetrating a joke to catch his cnstom, 
that was all right — provided he trnsted. Sam bade his 
new acqnaintance "good morning," and passed on. 

He had hardly gone a block before he was accosted by a 
well-dressed, intelligent looking man, on the opposite side 
of the street, with: "Why, bless my sonl ! is that you, 
Sam % I thought we would never see you again. Where 
do you hail from % Hold on a minute, please, till I come 
over and 'have a shake!'" and he crossed the street 
toward Sam. 

Sam waited for him, both amused and perplexed, and 
wondered what such proceedings meant. The stranger 
shook Sam's hand warmly, patted him on the shoulder, 
and said, familiarly : " Old boy, yen are as smiling as ever. 
That face of yours is a fortune to its owner." 

Sam thought it was about time to clear away the mys- 
tery, and so said : " Stranger, you seem to know me, but 
I hope I may never die if I ever saw you or met you be- 
fore." 

The stranger laughed, and answered : "That won't do, 
Sam ; won't do. Don't you know John Barkley, lawyer ? 
Well, if that isn't too cool, Good morning, I'll see you 
again." 

Sam was confounded. Was it a joke some one had 
"put up" on him, or was it the way this people greeted 
every stranger % It was sociability and familiarity border- 
ing on impudence. 

Sam stepped into the hotel, up to the counter, and reg- 
istered his name in a bold business hand, the proprietor 
staring at him all the while. When Sam looked up the 
proprietor said, tauntingly: "Oh! you've changed your 
name, have you V 



A WARM RECEPTION. 41 

" Changed my name !" exclaimed Sam. "What do you 
mean? Are you all bewitched in this town, or am I 
dreaming?" 

*' You're not Sam Haines, the bare-faced, oily-tongued 
book agent who was here two months ago selling law 
books?" propounded the landlord. "You didn't get an 
advance on your books from our lawyers, smart as they 
are? Of course not. Didn't I just see that clothing mer- 
chant talking to you. Suppose he wasn't dunning you for 
the bill you run there for a suit of clothes that you s;ot 
away with ? And pray, what was Lawyer Barkley speak- 
ing to you about ? Asking your advice legally, I suppose. 
* Johnson' won't 'wash.' It's 'too thin.' However, it 
don't matter about your name, whether it is Haines, John- 
son, or the Devil, you can't secure accommodations in this 
house until you have settled the 'old score,' first, " and 
he folded his arms complacently, as much as to indicate 
that "it is said." 

Sam knew now that he was mistaken for another per- 
son, one, too, who had a rather questionable reputation. 
It was a joke, and a good one, but it had too serious an 
aspect to allow it to go any further unexplained. 

" Landlord," said Sam, "^you are ' off your reckoning,' 
I was never in this house before. I am not and never was 
a book agent. I am an operator." 

The landlord eyed Sam a minute, contemptuously and 
increduously, and then said, sarcastically : " An operator ! 
yes, and a very fine one. One of those ever-smiling, 
polite, clever, butter-mouthed confidence operators, who 
have been swindling honest people ever since the first one 
of your class beguiled innocent Eve with his flattery. But 
you have 'put your foot in it' this time. You'll be in 
the 'Jug' in less than half an hour," and he started out 
of the room. 

"Hold on, Mr. Knoweverybody !" shouted Sam, " don't 
go away in a passion. If you say that I am a confidence 
operator, that I am any other person than Sam Johnson, 



42 SAM JOHNSON. 

that I was ever in this house before, or that I owe you or 
any other man in this town one penny, or any other 
amount, then I emphatically say that you are — well — the 
most deceived man above ground. I'll have nothing to do 
with you. Good morning !" and he moved toward the 
door, greatly excited. 

Just at this moment a man hurriedly entered, clasped 
Sam's slender arm with a vice-like grip, exclaiming : "Ah, 
ha ! Mr. Samuel Haines, I've got you at last. You're my 
man, sir. I have a warrant for you. Come along with 
me," and he made an effort to force him along. 

As quick as a flash, Sam jerked his arm through the vice 
of the officer' s hand, assumed an attitude of defense, and 
ejaculated : " To Hades with your warrants, your Samuel 
Haines, and yourself, too. I am not Samuel Haines, nor 
do I intend to be. If you want to know who I am, go down 
to the railroad office and inquire for Sam Johnson." 

But resistance was useless. Sam was marched away to 
the " Jug," and furnished accommodations behind cross- 
bars of iron. To say that Sam was angry would only be 
mockery to his feelings. He was tempestuous. He was 
convulsed with a perfect hurricane of rage, and expressed 
the emotion within him in true railroad style, then felt re- 
lieved. Gradually he subsided to his natural state of feel- 
ings, and finally laughed heartily at his ridiculous but 
dramatic situation. Second thought satisfied him that he 
could easily prove himself to be Sam Johnson, telegraph 
operator, and no mistake. Almost every man on the divi- 
sion knew him. 

Sam never looked on the dark side of anything very 
long. It was contrary to his nature, as the following note, 
written in prison, will show : 

" Dan Brown, Agent : 

" In the prison cell I sit thinking of how you are wonder- 
ing why I am not on hand with the key. I can't get away 
from my friends. I never met with so cordial a recep- 



A WARM RECEPTION. 43 

tion in a strange place in my life. Everybody seems to 
know me. I am stopping at the County Hotel. I have 
every accommodation and luxury which the place affords, 
free, too ; think of that. The landlord is the most obliging 
man I ever met. He even insisted on my wearing some of 
his jewelry. You know, Dan, that there is nothing proud 
about me. I feel miserable with it on. But he was so 
urgent, and it seemed as though I would confer so great a 
favor upon him by accepting it, that I couldn't refuse. 
]Sow, Dan, don't think that all these favors are being 
showered upon Sam Johnson, * night owl. 5 No, no ! 
They dub me Sam Haines, and won't listen to anything I 
say to the contrary. What a joke it will be on them when 
they discover that they have been bestowing somuchatten 
tion upon Sam Johnson ! If Sam Haines doesn't ' turn up' 
before night, I fear that I may not get away from here in 
time to go to work. If you can satisfy the bearer of this 
note that I am truly Sam Johnson, telegraph operator, and 
not Sam Haines, the rascally book agent, you will oblige 
me very much. True, everything is as pleasant here as 
can be, under the circumstances, and my board and lodg- 
ing are free, but then I prefer to be independent, and not 
beholden to any one. Very sincerely, 

Sam Johnson." 

The sheriff delivered Sam' s note to the agent. Dan read 
it, pausing every few words to laugh, not so much at the 
contents of the letter, as at the idea that Sam Johnson 
should be a victim of mistaken identity. That Sam John- 
son could be imitated or duplicated in looks and actions, 
he thought an utter impossibility. He finished perusing 
the note, folded it up, and, after recovering from his boist- 
erous laughter, looked up at the sheriff and said : "Every 
word of this letter has the ring of Sam Johnson in it. By 
Sam Johnson I mean the little, lean, ghostly-looking fel- 
low who was night owl at Princeton for more than a year, 
until within two months past. But I can tell you how you 



44 SAM JOHNSON 

may know Sam Johnson without mistake. Sam Johnson 
was to come on the west bonnd train last night to take 
the place of our night operator, who is sick. I was not 
here when the train arrived, but I understand he came. If 
it is Sam Johnson you have in custody, you will find a 
square hole in the lobe of his left ear, which was made by 
a conductor's punch." 

Armed with this description the sheriff returned to the 
jail. He found the hole in Sam's ear, sure enough, and 
immediately set him at liberty. Sam always looks upon 
this affair as one of the richest jokes he ever had a hand in. 

The way Sam happened to have a hole in his ear was in 
this wise : He was taking a run down to Chicago, one day, 
when he was working at Princeton, just for variety' s sake. 
Frank Ames was conductor of the train by which Sam re- 
turned. He was the jolliest of the jolly, and " up to" all 
the tricks and mischief going. On his round through the 
train, coming to Sam — who was dozing — he thumped him 
on the head with his punch, and called out "Tickets!" 
Sam shook his head. "Pass !" Same reply. " Money !" 
Sam laughed. "I must have something to punch," said 
the conductor. 

"Well, then, punch my ear," said Sam, turning the left 
one to him. 

The conductor put his punch on Sam's ear, only intend- 
ing to pinch it. But just at that moment the train gave 
a sudden jerk ahead, which threw the conductor back- 
ward. The punch came down with a snap, cutting en- 
tirely through the ear, and almost pulling it out of his 
head besides. 

Time sped along on its heedless course at Wasatch, and 
Sam with it. A night telegraph operator has much more 
to do than simply keep awake (though that is a laborious 
effort sometimes), and report the arrival and departure of 
trains. He has the tickets to sell, baggage to check and 
put on the train, and often express business to attend to, 
reports to put aboard, the train, train orders to deliver ; if 



THE ALAEM. 45 

any cars are wanted, to get them from passing trains, to 
deliver way bills to conductors for cars that are to go from 
the station, to check out of the cars any freight received at 
night, to keep his signal lamps always filled and trimmed 
and ready for immediate use. A railroad operator must 
live in continual expectation of being wanted at any mo- 
ment, and must be always ready for the emergency. At 
stations where there is but one operator this is all the time, 
day and night, week days and Sundays. Of course one 
man can not be on duty all day and all night continually, 
but he must be " come-at-able" when his services are re- 
quired, which we will see is frequently the case, before we 
take our leave of Sam Johnson. 

THE ALAEM. 

When Sam was at Wasatch, it was the custom for the 
operator in the train dispatcher's office to call each night 
operator on the line a few times every half hour, begin- 
ing at nine o'clock p. m. Any operator not answering 
would be recorded, and at the end of the month would 
receive notice of the number of calls missed. If the num- 
ber was above a certain per cent., a line was imposed, 
which was deducted from the wages. 

Sam noticed that operators who caused the most annoy- 
ance by sleeping, and being out of the office when wanted 
(thus " laying out" trains, and retarding the business o! 
the road), usually "came out ahead" of the faithful op- 
erator, in the way of promotion. They brought them- 
selves into notice and prominence by their neglect of duty, 
would get discharged, taken on again in an emergency, 
soon " sacked" again, and — result — a good day job. No 
fault was found with their operating, and so, like the 
"prodigal son," they would be rewarded for their way- 
wardness by the "fatted calf," while the strictly faithful 
night operator might toil on, and on, unnoticed and unre- 
warded, like the "Ninety and Nine," who did not go 
astray, and consequently got no grand reception. 



46 SAM .JOHNSON. 



Railroaders have all classes of people to deal with, and 
are frequently placed in positions that severely test their 
forbearance and courage. One night, at Wasatch, two 
half -inebriated men called for tickets to Chicago, each pre- 
senting a five dollar bill. Sam gave them tickets and 
change, and went to his instrument. Presently he was 
called to the ticket window, when he was again confronted 
by these two individuals, each demanding five dollars 
more change, claiming that he had given Sam a ten dollar 
bill. Sam knew that it was impossible that he should 
have made two mistakes of that kind. He unlocked the 
safe, examined the money drawer, and found no bills of 
such denomination in it. He politely explained this to the 
men, but they would not be satisfied. They wanted five 
dollars each, and would have it if they had to come in, 
and " choke it out" of Sam. Finding that they could not 
frighten him into paying each the extra Hive dollars, they 
made a rush for the door that opened from the sitting 
room into the office. The door was fastened with an old- 
fashioned bolt, but the bolt was of wood. As both of 
them were lunging against the door, Sam feared that their 
united weight would cause the bolt to break, and that they 
would be unceremoniously precipitated upon him, and as 
they were desperate looking characters, he would take no 
chances. Arming himself with a heavy, iron poker, he 
stood near the door with uplifted weapon, ready to strike 
down the first that should enter. He had not long to 
wait. Soon the bolt gave way, and in tumbled one of the 
assailants. Sam gave him a " poker benefit," with all his 
strength, knocking him senseless, and cutting a long scar 
in his head, from which blood flowed freely. The other 
" rounder," seeing the condition of his companion, and 
that Sam was ready for him also, withdrew, and did not 
attempt to force an entrance. The whistle of the ap- 
proaching train was heard, and Sam told the uninjured 



A <; LITTLE UNPLEASANTNESS.'' 47 

man to drag his friend out, and put him aboard the train, 
which he was glad enough to do. 

At another time a large, vicious looking "customer" 
walked into the office about eight o'clock p. m., and lay 
down on a cushioned bench without recognizing Sam, or 
even saying : " By your leave, sir." 

Sam's first impulse was to order the intruder instantly 
out, but then, he thought, probably he is an intimate 
acquaintance of the agent, who had been permitted such 
liberties, and he refrained from so doing. Sam's instruc- 
tions were to close the office at nine o'clock p. m., and 
admit none but train men after that hour. The safe 
always contained more or less money, and it was not busi- 
ness prudence to allow every one who chose to enter, 
admission to the office. 

At nine o'clock Sam informed his gentlemanly (?) visitor 
that he wished to close the office, and would be pleased to 
have him walk out into the sitting room. 

" We'll see about that ! " was the growling rejoinder. 
This scornful reply kindled Sam' s wrath in a twinkling, 
but he smothered it, and said: "Mr., I have told you 
civilly and politely what my instructions are, and have 
asked you in a gentlemanly way to comply with them. 
Either you or I must leave this office, and that soon. As 
I have the better right here, I am under the impression 
that you are the party that will go." 

The stranger turned on his back, and grunted : " I guess 
not." 

Sam had stationed himself beside a drawer that con- 
tained a large navy revolver, determined not to be 
"pounced upon" unarmed. This last reply of the 
impudent stranger aroused Sam to the highest pitch of 
anger and determination. The words had hardly died on 
the speaker's lips, ere Sam pointed a revolver at his head, 
cocked, and with his finger on the trigger, said, in lan- 
guage the meaning of which could not be mistaken:' "If 
you are not out of this office in one minute I shall adopt 



48 SAM JOHNSON. 

another mode of persuasion, which I am positive will be 
more effective than the first, and which will place you in a 
condition to be removed peaceably." 

The stranger was fully aroused now, and convinced, too, 
that Sam "meant business," and he got up, and hurried 
out of his presence. 

Sam was affable, yielding, and disposed to defer his own 
opinions to those of others, for the sake of harmony and 
good feeling, socially, but in business regulations he was 
inflexible. 

CONFIDENCE OPERATORS. 

Wasatch was a kind of exchange depot for confidence 
operators ; a class of shrewd, polished, plausible, gentle- 
manly-appearing persons, who, by their suavity, natural 
magnetism, and acquired dexterity and proficiency in 
reading character in faces, ingratiated themselves into the 
confidence and good graces of travelers, and by so doing 
"fleeced" them of considerable "filthy lucre." Not only 
did they work upon the verdant and unsuspecting, but 
their greatest success was with the intelligent man of busi- 
ness, and the staid, sober men of morals and uprightness. 
It is truly wonderful how frail human nature is when sub- 
jected to temptation, and how easily thrown off its guard 
when there is a possibility of "large profits and small 
losses." 

While Sam Johnson was at Wasatch, he was an eye 
witness to several incidents confirmatory of these views. 

In the neighborhood of Wasatch there is quite a settle- 
ment of Dunkards, a religious society whose members are 
known for their sobriety, thriftiness and honesty. "Help 
one another" is their principal rule of conduct. They are 
plain and neat in manners and dress, and one need only 
see to know them. Gambling, to them, is a heinous 
crime. That one of these people, and that one a minister, 
should be inveigled into staking his money on a game of 
chance, is almost too incredible for belief, yet. Sam John- 
son says such is the case, and what Sam asserts is unques- 
tionably true. 



CONFIDENCE OPERATORS. 49 

Train No. 5, bound west, was due at Wasatch at 1.30 
a. m. The confidence operators would "work" No. 5, 
from Fort Wa3 T ne, west, as far as Wasatch, and remain 
over and " manipulate " No. 4 back, which left Wasatch at 
four o'clock a. m. No. 5 brought three of these wily per- 
sons' to Wasatch one morning, all of them perfect gentle- 
men in appearance and conversation. They bought tickets, 
and of course had the same privileges at depots and on the 
cars as other travelers. On this particular morning, 
when No. 5 arrived with the three "wolves in sheep's 
clothing," the only occupant of the sitting room was a 
Dunkard minister, who, in the flight of time, had probably 
"turned the scale of fifty." The three roguish gentlemen 
"looked him all over" again and again, went out of his 
hearing, and consulted and planned, and finally decided 
upon their mode of operation. One of them introduced 
himself to the old gentleman, and engaged him in conver- 
sation ; first upon the weather, then upon the war, then 
upon general topics, and finally upon religious matters, the 
theme nearest the minister's heart. The "operator" was 
well versed in all these subjects, and proved most agree- 
able company to the minister, completely gaining his 
esteem and confidence. When the proper time arrived he 
introduced his business, or what he was thinking of mak- 
ing his business, which was that of becoming agent for a 
newly invented patent lock, the right of which his friend 
there (pointing to one of his confederates), had for sale. 

"Yes," says the confederate, "here is one of the locks, 
(handing one out), and I'll stake my reputation and my 
fortune that it is just what I represent it to be," and he, at 
the same time, displayed a large roll of greenbacks. 

He explains its merits, shows how it works, and offers 
to back his word with money. 

The minister reproves him for his gambling propensity, 
and volunteers some good, wholesome advice. The gam- 
bler very politely admits the force of his remarks, but jus- 
tifies his conduct by arguing that it is much easier to 



50 SAM JOHNSON. 

preach than to practice, and of what consequence is a man 
in the world without money, and why concern ourselves 
about the future, of which we know nothing, when the 
present demands all our attention. Then, addressing 
himself to the third "operator," whom he treats as a 
stranger, he asks him to examine his patent lock. 

"I don't care about it," says he, "I have very little 
faith in 'new-fangled' inventions." 

" You certainly cannot object to looking at this," said 
the gambler, "it shall not injure you, nor cost you any- 
thing." 

The apparent stranger steps forward and examines the 
lock, remarking that it is a very nice piece of workman- 
ship, and ingeniously constructed, but he doesn't see why 
it cannot be opened as easily as any other lock. 

"I assert that it cannot," says the 'operator,' and will 
back my assertion by from ten dollars to ten thousand." 

"I am not a betting man," affirms the 'decoy,' but, to 
teach you a lesson, I will wager ten dollars that I can open 
your lock in less than five minutes." 

The wager is accepted, the trial begins, and, of course, 
the "decoy" wins. Appearing to be elated with his suc- 
cess, he continues to bet, increasing each wager with the 
money previously won. 

The man of strict morals, from declaiming and reason- 
ing against the practice, has become a highly excited and 
interested spectator. His conversational, newly-made 
friend has explained to him that the gambler has a large 
fortune, which nothing can hinder him from spending ; 
that he is a monomaniac on this patent lock, and though 
he never wins he never despairs, believing that he will 
triumph in the end. He further adds, that, as the mono- 
maniac seems intent upon parting with his money in such 
a manner, he has almost been tempted to avail himself of 
the opportunity to "feather his own nest," to use a vul- 
gar and metaphorical expression. "Is it not better % " he 
argues, "that persons should obtain this money who can 



51 

and will put it to good use, than that gamblers and per- 
sons of disrepute should squander it in debauchery?" 
This mode of reasoning, coupled with the powerful hu- 
man incentive which exists in every mind to better one's 
fortune quickly and easily, at last completely triumphed 
ovei the nobler principles of the " man of morals," and, 
with trembling hand and beating pulse, hardly knowing 
what he is doing, he draws forth a wallet from an inner 
pocket, takes two hundred and iifty dollars therefrom in 
bills, and places the amount in the hands of his confiden- 
tial friend (?) while he is given one of the locks, which, if 
he opens in iive minutes, he doubles his money. If he 
fails he loses it. He lost it. 

When the minister's new-made friend, who was holding 
his watch in one hand, and the money in the other, ex- 
claimed: "You have lost!" and he (the minister) real- 
ized what he had done, he stood motionless in the middle 
of the room, as one petrified. This gave the confidence 
operators a chance to escape, which they were not slow in 
doing. 

The remorse and agony of the conscience-stricken Dun- 
kard were painful to witness. He groaned, wrung his 
hands, pulled his long beard as if he would pluck it out, 
walked to and fro with a quick, nervous step, until 
the perspiration oozed from his forehead, running down on 
Ms beard, and at last sank into a seat, overcome with 
grief, and sick at heart 



In the summer season thunder showers were of frequent 
occurrence, often coming up suddenly, startling the still- 
ness of night with peal upon peal of Jehovah' s dread ar- 
tillery, and illuminating the darkness with vivid flashes of 
electric light from nature's overcharged battery. At such 
times it was imperative that the instruments should be 
disconnected from the wires, otherwise they were in great 
danger of being rendered unfit for immediate service. The 



52 sam joirasoir. 

operator, too, ran no small risk of being " dispatched" to 
Ms long home, not exactly in a chariot of fire, but, as 
it were, on the wings of a streak of lightning. 

During Sam's "administration" at Wasatch, he was 
one of the participants in a tete-a-tete with the warring 
elements that was more venturesome than prudent. The 
thunder rolled and roared through ethereal space, causing 
the air to tremble and vibrate alarmingly, and, ever and 
anon, as the thunder broke forth in sudden peals of 
wrath, the earth would seem to shudder as though con- 
vulsed from center to circumference. Forked tongued 
lightnings, lightnings with a thousand tongues, and light- 
nings with tongues without number, flashed hither and 
thither, and everywhere, brilliant as diamonds, and fiery 
as the sun — a blaze of dazzling beauty for those whose 
nerves could withstand the shock. The rain descended in 
sheets, in waves ; an ocean seemed to have dropped out of 
the clouds, and fallen in a body to earth. In the very 
midst of this furious battle of the elements, train No. 18 
arrives ; the conductor hurries to the office, and asks Sam 
to- try and get orders for him to run his train to Columbia 
City, regardless of train No. 9. 

" Impossible," answered Sam, "I dare not connect my 
instrument with the line for fear of ruining it, not to say 
anything about my own safety." 

" Have I got to be here for No. 9, after flagging my train 
in through this infernal storm, and getting drenched and 
beaten against by the wind until I am as wretched as a 
bare-footed Turk on a pilgrimage to Mecca ? Sam, get me 
orders to get away from here if it blows the top of }^our 
head off." 

" If you will stand by the table and hold fast to my left 
hand, so that should I make a sudden dash for the other 
end of the room you can hold me back, I will make the at- 
tempt," said Sam. 

" Now you are talking, Sam," said the conductor, "give 
me your left hand and 'sail in' with the other. I'll stick 
to you as long as there is anything to hold to." 



TASTING ELECTRICITY. 53 

Sam connected his instrument. Sharp flashes, snaps and 
sparks executed a regu]ar " Highland Fling " around and 
among the instruments — a kind of Satanic dance, accom- 
panied by the deep "bass music of the element's thundering; 
band. Now and then sparks would bound off from the in- 
struments and almost blind the conductor and Sam for the 
moment. After much adjusting and vexation Sam got 
the desired order, and was repeating it to the dispatcher, 
when a powerful flash completely blinded him, causing 
him to let his Angers slip off the knob of the key on to the 
brass lever. In a twinkling he was knocked backward 
with such force that his chair was upset, and he and the 
conductor went bounding on the floor. The effect of the 
blow from the lightning disappeared with the flash, and in 
a moment Sam was on his feet again, renewing the danger- 
ous warfare. He had just succeeded in getting the order 
O. K. when the conductor aroused from his shock. As 
soon as his senses returned he sprang out of the door at 
one bound, exclaiming: "Confusion to your treacherous 
lightning ! Why, the forked-tongue fiend can knock a man 
as cold and lifeless as a frozen potato, quicker than a singed 
cat can jump," he ejaculated, as he started away. 

" Hold on! hold on!" cried Sam, "here's your order. 
Come in, attach your signature, and get out of this place as 
soon as you can." 

"To Hades with the order," retorted the conductor; 
"just order my coffin, will you, before I come in. There's 
no doubt but I'll want it before I get out." 

TASTING ELECTRICITY. 

It may not be generally known that electricity can be 
tasted as well as felt ; that is, that it has a flavor peculiar 
to itselt; by which it can be distinguished from anything 
else. Sam affirms that it has, having demonstrated the 
truth thereof to his own satisfaction. He gives the manner 
of tasting it as follows : "Let the person who is to taste it 
take hold of the ground wire in the office with his right 



54 SAM JOHNSON. 

hand. Let a second party place the fingers of his right 
hand on the ' cut out ' of a line with a strong battery, and 
then complete the circuit by touching the first party on the 
cheek with the forefinger of his left hand. The party 
touched will immediately experience the vilest taste in his 
mouth known in nature or compounded from drugs." 

A CHANGE. 

Sam was transferred from Wasatch to Yan Wert, a sta- 
tion one hundred miles east, on the same line. He worked 
all night at Wasatch, traveled during the day, so that he 
should be at Yan Wert for duty at night. No matter about 
Ms loss of sleep and rest, the company must not lose his 
services. Nevertheless, if he should fail to perform any 
part of his allotted task on account of this extra duty, he 
would surely be held responsible for it. 

Sam was welcomed to Yan Wert with a grand reception, 
in fact a perfect ovation. The train that bore him entered 
the town amid the booming of cannon, the displaying of 
flags, and the singing of the National Anthem by a large 
crowd of men and women assembled at the depot. The 
train stopped, and immediately cheer upon cheer rent the 
air. Sam was wonderfully surprised. He had not dreamed 
of such a thing. It was extraordinary. He was not aware 
that he had performed any public service that should ex- 
cite such enthusiasm in the people. Yet it must be that 
he had, otherwise why all this parade, and show, and out- 
pouring of the people upon his return ? He began to feel 
exalted in his own estimation, and to chide himself for be- 
ing so thoughtless as not sooner to have discovered his own 
greatness. Then he would have doubts. Probably, with 
him, " Distance lends enchantment to the view," and the 
kind-hearted, generous people have magnified his few 
virtues into unlimited numbers. It might be possible, too r 
that he was one of those persons who, as the poet says, 
have greatness thrust upon them. " Well, if what is to be 
will be, there is no use to rebel," thought Sam. " I'll wear 



RAILROADING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 55 

the honors as nobly and gracefully as I can. I suppose 
that upon alighting from the cars I shall be taken up by 
the multitude and carried upon their shoulders to a ban- 
queting hall, where, after feasting and drinking, I shall be 
called upon for a speech. Let me see — what shall I say % 
I think the proper and most affecting address would be 
something like this : 

"Ladies and gentlemen ! a-a-a-a-a-'hem, but really — a-a 
a I can't speak, a-a your magnanimity has overcome me. 
My feelings choke me when they undertake to express 
themselves in words. Believe me, my heart speaks though 
my lips be silent. I must sit down." 

These thoughts shaped themselves in Sam's mind in 
much less time than it has taken to pen them. Sam 
alighted to the platform big with expectations, but they 
only lasted for a moment. There was no rush or scramble 
to see him, to lift him up and bear him away. On the 
contrary, he was not noticed, except by a howling "pack" 
of hotel runners. A red-nosed, red-faced, long-haired, 
portly man a short distance from him seemed to be the 
center of attraction. He was lifted into an open carriage, 
when one of the leading men in attendance swung his hat 
in the air, and exclaimed: "Three cheers and a tiger for 
the Hon. William Thorn, our noble candidate for Con- 
gress !" They were given with a will, the band played 
"Yankee Doodle," the carriage started, followed by the 
people, and soon the depot resumed its usual appearance. 

Sam immediately lost confidence in humanity. When 
a people could become "swallowed up " in a man who had 
no more respect for himself than to aspire to be a Congress- 
man, it was about time for another flood. 

RAILROADING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 

There is a limit to human endurance, a point at which 
the physical machinery of the man breaks down, and will 
not and can not move further until recuperated, no matter 
how persistently urged by the ambitious spirit of the indi- 



56 SAM JOHtfSO^. 

vidual to go forward. This is frequently exemplified on a 
railroad, in the winter season, when the weather is unusu- 
ally severe and inclement. Sam has recorded one particu- 
lar instance of this nature which occurred while he was 
" night owl " at Van Wert. 

Train No. 12, Jack Dare conductor, pulled out of Fort 
Wayne, east bound, at 6 o'clock a. m. Monday morning. 
The morning was bitter cold, a kind of icy sleet was falling 
that froze fast to everything it touched. The wind was 
blowing furiously, making it very dangerous for brakemen 
to be on top of the cars. But one had to be out all the 
time, and two at the approach to every station, as well as at 
every sharp curve in the road, and at every heavy grade. 
The sleet made the rails slippery, and a heavy train of 
stock tried the skill of the engineer and the power of the 
engine to its utmost in the endeavor to "make time." 
The elements were " too many " for the genius of man and 
the strength of the iron horse. The train failed to make 
its first meeting point, and had to lie at Monroe ville forty- 
five minutes waiting for No. 11. The freezing sleet had 
formed so heavily on the wires that they were broken in a 
number of places, and communication with the Superinten- 
dent' s office was impossible. The engineer had to build 
fires on both sides of his engine, while it was standing still, 
to keep the pumps from freezing and the engine from 
becoming glazed with ice — an iceberg on land. The forty- 
five minutes required by rule for one delayed train to wait 
for another coming from an opposite direction, expired and 
No. 11 had not appeared. It was necessary to move with 
great caution now, for it might be met between stations. 
The conductor took a stand on the engine, one brakeman 
on top of the forward end of the train, the other on the 
rear end, to keep a sharp look-out for No. 18, behind. In 
this manner they pulled out of Monroeville and "felt" 
their way along. The sleet gradually changed to blinding, 
drifting snow, and fell thick and fast, rendering it impos- 
sible to see to any great distance. Dixon was reached and 



RAILROADING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 57 

passed without encountering No. 11. About midway be- 
tween Dixon and Conroy the engineer saw something across 
the track, and immediately reversed his engine and called 
for brakes. The train was brought to a stand with the 
engine but a few feet from the obstruction. An examina- 
tion revealed a large elm tree, two feet and a half in 
diameter, across the track, half covered with drifting 
snow. The engineer stared at the conductor, the con- 
ductor at the brakeman, and the brakeman at the fireman, 
all stricken dumb at the perplexing situation. For once 
railroaders did not swear. Language was powerless to 
express their feelings. The only remedy was to get their 
axes (with two of which every train was supplied), and by 
cutting the tree in two twice, clear the track for going 
ahead. This was no small undertaking. Each of the ^.ve 
men chopped in turn. It was one o'clock p. m. when they 
moved from the place where the fallen tree had detained 
them. The snow was still falling rapidly. They expected 
to meet No. 11 at any moment. It was dangerous to pro- 
ceed without sending a man ahead with a Hag. It was like 
" taking his life in his hands " for a flagman to attempt to 
walk the track in such a storm, with the trestle work and 
bridges covered with snow, underneath which was a coat- 
ing of glassy sleet. However, it must be done. It was 
attempted by the brakeman and conductor, and aban- 
doned by each, in turn. They must get along as best they 
could without an advance guard. At two-thirty they 
passed Conroy, without meeting No. 11. It was seven 
miles to Van Wert. Freight trains must keep out of the 
way of all passenger trains. No. 12 had one hour's time 
in which to run to Van Wert, after leaving Conroy, so as 
to arrive there ahead of passenger train No. 2. They 
could easily run that distance in half the time, in fair 
weather and with a clear track. But now they had No. 
11 to look out for, and snow drifts to contend with. They 
would be fortunate and thankful to get there within the 
hour. Two miles east of Conroy there was a deep cut. 



58 SAM JOHNSON. 

Once through that they would have pretty clear sailing, 
unless further retarded by trees or by broken rails. But 
they did not get through the cut. It was filled with drift- 
ing snow, which repelled every effort at dislodgement by 
the engine. There was no other remedy but to shovel it 
out. Of what avail were five shovels against a furious 
storm of wind and snow \ No matter, they must do what 
they could, and so went to work with a will. Their num- 
bers were soon increased by the men from two sections of 
train No. 18, and three sections of No. 20, following them. 
Behind No. 20 came No. 2, with a gang of section men ; 
with their aid the snow was finally cleared out of the cut 
so that trains could move ahead. It was six o'clock p. m. 
when No. 12 reached Van Wert. The men had not par- 
taken of a morsel of food since eating their breakfast 
before starting. They were already almost worn out with 
fatigue, but they must move ahead. They swallowed a 
hasty meal while No. 2 and No. 11 were passing, and then 
started, once more, for Crestline, their objective point. 
The track was comparatively clear. The only delay being 
caused by retarded trains from the opposite direction, and 
by broken rails. Near Dunkirk a pair of trucks jumped 
from the track, thrown off by a broken rail. One hour was 
lost by this mishap, and a painful one it was, too. The 
snow had ceased falling, and the weather had turned bit- 
ter, biting cold, with a stinging, northwest wind blowing a 
gale. 

Train No. 12, Jack Dare conductor, reported its arrival 
at Crestline, the end of the division, at 8:30 a. m., Tuesday 
morning. The crew had been on the road twenty-six 
hours and a half without rest or sleep, and had fought an 
unceasing battle with the elements the whole of the time. 
One would suppose they would be allowed to recuperate 
their strength with rest and sleep before starting back. 
Not so. The third section of No. 11 was made up and 
ready to start as soon as No. 12' s engine could "cut 
loose" from her own train, and couple to it. The train 



RAILROADING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 59 

must start immediately, and there was no "crew" at 
hand but Jack Dare' s to take charge of it. 

On a road where there are twenty trains a day each 
way, and the majority of the freight trains running in sec- 
tions of from two to live each, it is necessary for the men 
to be wide awake and active to avoid accidents, do the 
work of setting out and taking in cars, switching in and 
out at meeting points, and still keep on their card time. 
There is little opportunity for rest or sleep, however much 
the men may be disposed to take it. 

At two o'clock a. m., Wednesday morning, the third 
section of train No. 11, Jack Dare conductor, pulled into 
the siding at Middlepoint, to allow No. 10, bound east, to 
pass. This was forty-four hours after leaving Fort Wayne, 
Monday morning. Middlepoint was the first station east 
of Yan Wert. Three sections of train No. 10 left Yan 
Wert on time, and passed three sections of No. 11 at Mid- 
dlepoint. The first and second sections of No. 11 reported 
at \ r an Wert on time, but the third did not put in an 
appearance. Passenger train No. 3 arrived at Yan Wert 
at 4:30, and reported a train on the siding at Middlepoint. 
What could this mean ? The train dispatcher was asking 
8am every few minutes if third No. 11 was in sight yet, 
and got "no, sir," for an answer. At 550 it pulled into 
the station. The conductor came into the office looking 
considerably worried, and said to Sam: "Has No. 3 
passed ? Has No. 10 passed ? ' ' 

"Well," said Sam, "those are curious questions for 
you to ask. What right had you to leave Middlepoint 
without knowing whether No. 10 and No. 3 had gone 
by?" 

"Sam, you've caught me," answered Jack. "I confess 
that every man on the train fell dead asleep as soon as the 
train stopped. We could not do otherwise. We had not 
life enough left in us to keep awake when idle. Think of 
it, Sam, forty-four hours of the hardest work and most 
unceasing vigilance that any set of men ever went through, 



60 SAM JOHNSON. 

and you'll not wonder at our falling asleep. When I 
awoke and looked at my watch I was dumbfounded. 
I had not heard a train pass. I awoke my two brakemen. 
They knew no more than I did. I ran to the engine. There 
sat the engineer and firemen in their seats, sound asleep. 
I awoke them. They were as greatly astonished, as my- 
self. We consulted, and concluded to come ahead, keep- 
ing a sharp lookout both ways. Have the trains passed I " 

"Yes," said Sam, "but what answer are you going to 
give the dispatcher for your delay ?" 

"That's it, Sam," said Jack, "I want you to help me 
out, and keep mum about it. Tell him that we got a truck 
off the track pulling into the siding, and had to jack the 
car up before we could get it on." 

"I will tell him whatever you request," replied Sam, 
"but if I had been in your place I should have lain on 
that siding until the Milky- way turned into cheese before 
I would have "pulled out" and taken the chances of col- 
liding with No. 10, and of being run into by No. 3." 

PLATING CHECKERS BY TELEGRAPH. 

Walt Smedley, "owl" at Upper Sandusky, and Sam 
used to pass a good many hours quite pleasantly, playing 
checkers over the line, until an outsider came in and broke 
up the game. The modus operandi was as follows : 

Walt and Sam each had a checker board, with the spots 
numbered from one to thirty -two. All the checkers were 
placed on both boards, the line representing the opposite 
player to each. If Walt wanted to move from one to three, 
he would make the figures on the line " 1 to 3," and make 
the move on his own board, and Sam would move the same 
men on his. When Sam played he would move his own 
men on his board, and Walt would make the same move 
on his. They played on a line that was not used at night, 
and so they did not interfere with business. Now and 
then some operator who was listening would make figures, 
while Sam or Walt was waiting for the other to move. But 



PLAYING CHECKERS BY TELEGRAPH. 61 

as these moves were always "wide of the mark," they 
caused no confusion. After awhile it was noised about in 
both towns that this game was going on, and people began 
to gather into both offices at night, some out of curiosity 
to see the game played by telegraph, and others for the 
interest they took in the recreation. The good players 
came forward, and the game became exciting and inter- 
esting. 

One night two hotly contested games had been played, 
each office winning one. Then came the deciding game, 
the struggle for the championship. Both combatants 
played very cautiously and slowly, each planning deeply 
intricate manoeuvres to entrap the other. Sam and his 
backers had u dug a pit" for Walt, and were anxiously 
waiting for him to fall into it, when, sure enough, the in- 
strument clicked off the figures wanted. Sam immediately 
made the next move. 

"Hold on," said Walt, "it is my move." 

"No, sir," said Sam, "you just this moment moved 
so and so." 

"That won't do," replied Walt, "I had you in an un- 
comfortable situation, and you have adopted this under- 
hand way to get out of it." 

Walt was undoubtedly greatly excited over the game, 
or he would never have spoken in that way. Sam re- 
torted : "It's you who were in a 'corner;' you certainly 
did move." 

They could not agree, each claiming that it was his move 
next. Angry words passed between them, and the game 
was given up unfinished. Walt wrote to Sam the next 
day, accusing him of unfair playing. Sam answered, 
pleading "not guilty," but charging him with unfairness. 
And so ended the telegraphic checker playing. 

It afterward occurred to Sam that probably some disin- 
terested operator had accidentally made the figures he 
wanted, and thus caused the confusion and misunderstand- 
ing. He informed Walt of this supposition, but he would 



62 SAM JOHNSON. 

not believe it, but intimated that it was a partial confession 
of guilt on Sam's part. They were never warm friends 
afterward. 

" IGNORANCE IS BLISS." 

Unsophisticated people, who have formed their ideas of 
electricity and telegraphy from hearsay evidence alone, oft- 
en astonish and amuse the better informed, by their crude 
opinions as to its real nature. Sam narrates numerous in- 
cidents illustrative of this. One of them will suffice to show 
the vague ideas people form of things of which they can 
have no clear conception. 

Early one morning, quite an aged couple came to the de- 
pot at Van Wert, to take the west-bound train. Sam's 
green lantern was sitting on the counter in his office, lit, 
ready to signal a train for which he had orders. 

When he slid back the ticket window, the old gentleman 
stepped up and called for two tickets to Wanatah. Hap- 
pening to espy the green light, he turned about quickly, 
and exclaimed : ' ' Come here, Betsy, and see the tele- 
graph !" 

Betsy presented herself at the window, with an old style 
dark bonnet on, and a white fringed cap on her head un- 
derneath it, and asked : ' ' Where is it ? " 

The old gentleman replied, pointing to the green lantern : 
" There it is, Betsy. See what a beautiful color. That's 
the color of electricity. Whenever any one wants to send 
a message, the operator touches a little knob on the table, 
the electricity gives a flash, and the news is where it was 
going to, right away." 

u Oh, my! how fast it must go!" said Betsy, and she 
gasped as if the thought of it had taken her breath away. 

The old gentleman and old lady conversed about it a few 
minutes, and then the old gentleman asked Sam if he would 
allow them to come around into the office, saying that Bet- 
sy, his wife, wanted to see the telegraph work. 

' 'With pleasure," answered Sam. 



sam's epitaph. 63 

The old couple were wonderfully charmed with a near 
view of the telegraph — green light. The old gentleman 
explained its seemingly miraculous powers quite animated- 
ly and profoundly, to the old lady. 

Now, this old gentleman was a local preacher — a leader 
in the neighborhood where he resided. He doubtless went 
home to his cranberry marsh, on the Kankakee, and im- 
parted to his Hock, at the first opportunity, the information 
he had obtained during his travels, dwelling enthusiastic- 
ally and graphically upon the beauties of the telegraph, 
and the incomprehensible speed of its flight. 

A STEP TJPWAED. 

After nine months' night work at Van Wert, Sam was 
promoted to "day operator." Van Wert station did a 
large freight and passenger business, and transacted more 
telegraphic railroad business than any other station on the 
division, excepting Crestline and Fort Wayne. It also did 
a good pay business in commercial telegrams. Sam was 
ambitious, and desirous of perfecting himself in a knowledge 
of all the business pertaining to a railroad station. There- 
fore, every moment that he could spare from his telegraphic 
duties, he devoted to making out freight way bills, filling 
up blank receipts for freight to be delivered, booking bills, 
making out reports, checking freight in and out of the cars, 
delivering goods to dra}~men, selling tickets, checking bag- 
gage, and the thousand and one other things to be attended 
to about a station. 

sam's epitaph. 

Often, when his own day's work was done, which was at 
seven p. m., he would write for the agent until nine, ten and 
eleven o'clock. Railroad companies are not encumbered 
with drones. They put upon their employes everything 
that they can possibly do. Corporations have no souls, 
consequently no scruples against " riding a willing horse 
to death." Where there was work to do, Sam was not the 



64 SAM JOH^SOX. 

person to " shirk" it. One night, after having put in a 
hard day's work on his own account, Sam wrote up the 
books for the agent. It was almost eleven o' clock when he 
finished, and threw himself, exhausted, on the lounge. 
The agent was still at work. Sam lay quiet for some time, 
which was a thing so unusual for him that it attracted the 
agent' s attention, and he turned toward Sam to sen what 
was the matter. Sam was lying on his hack, gazing upward 
as if he were looking into another sphere. The agent said : 
"Sam, what do you see? What are you thinking about? 
One would think you had lost your senses, you are so mo- 
tionless and silent." 

"Iwas thinking," answered Sam, "what would be the 
most appropriate epitaph for my tombstone when I am 
dead." 

"What ! you think of dying ! Impossible ! " spoke the 
agent. 

"Well, I may not die naturally," said Sam, "but if I 
cling to this railroad and telegraph business I shall wear 
myself entirely away, which is the same thing in the end." 

"Bosh ! " exclaimed the agent, disapprovingly, "you're 
better than a thousand dead men yet. But, supposing 
that you were to die, what inscription would you prefer to 
have on your tombstone? If I'm above ground then, 
Sam, I shall take great pleasure (?) in seeing that your 
•wishes are complied with, in that respect." 

"I think," said Sam, "about the proper thing would 
be: 

"HERE LIES SAM, WAKE HIM UP WHEN THE 
TRAIN COMES." 

The agent gazed at Sam as if he questioned his sanity, 
and then burst out laughing, and laughed and laughed 
until he was weak with the exertion. Sam's apparent 
earnestness, and the utter variance of such sentiments 
from his usually jubilant feelings, made the expression 
sound so ridiculous and absurd that it could not be other- 
wise than mirth- provoking to those who knew him. 



SAM JOHNSON. 65 

A SURPRISE. 

ISTo matter how arduous Sam's duties, lie never permitted 
an opportunity to pass unimproved, when there was a 
chance for a joke or a trick to be played on some one. 

Old Uncle Joe was general utility man at Van Wert 
station. He was pleasant enough when allowed to have 
his own way, but very excitable and crabbed when 
thwarted or disturbed. He was a deacon in church, and 
therefore it was incumbent upon him to always wear 
a long face, and keep his speech down to plain words, 
which was ver} r much against him among railroaders. 
One afternoon Uncle Joe had lain down on the lounge to 
take a nap. While he was enjoying this pleasant diver- 
sion from the usual routine of business, a noble son of toil, 
a giant in stature and a Hercules in strength, came into 
the office, and, in a voice harsh and loud, inquired of Sam 
if there was any freight there for Bob Slocum. Here was 
Sam's opportunity to "stir up" Uncle Joe, and he was 
not slow to take advantage of it. 

" That old gentleman there on the lounge," said Sam to 
the stranger, (pointing to Uncle Joe) attends to the freight. 
You will have to speak to him about it. It is very diffi- 
cult to make him hear when awake. Now that he is 
asleep it will be almost impossible to make him under- 
stand. Go over to him and hollow right in his ear." 

The unsuspecting stranger shuffled along to the side of 
Uncle Joe (Sam slipping Out of the door and looking in at 
the window), bent his huge body until his lips were almost 
against Uncle Joe's ear, and bellowed in a voice like muf- 
fled thunder, "Halloa! old coon, have — " here Uncle Joe 
sprang to his feet on the lounge, and stared at the stranger 
like a madman, his hair standing straight out from his 
head as stiff as knitting needles, and his limbs trembling 
like a hoosier's with the "ager." 

As soon as Uncle Joe could speak he hissed vehemently, 
"Fiend, bear, fool, devil! what do you want to frighten 
me so for!" 



gg SAM JOHNSON. 

The stranger leaned toward Uncle Joe, and spoke in a 
deep loud, bass voice: "Keep cool, keep cool, old man 
yotf re a little weak on yonr pins, I see, and onghtn t to 

^Ttoonh'increased Uncle Joe's agitation and fears, and 
he backed against the wall, and kicked, and struck, and 
cried 'Go away ! Get out of here! Do you want to 
murder me, you bloodthirsty wretch? 

The imperturbable stranger was as cool and ca m as a 
marble Sue, and stared at Uncle Joe, more wuh pi y 
^rTwith anger " I want to know if there is any freight 
heTe to Bob Slocum, and I am going to And out from 
T- said he and he reached out his right hand and 
^ht Uncle Joe by the coat collar, and lifted him down 
caught Lncle Joe by sliake . and told him to "look 

^ tlat Stt ahurry if be didn't want to be shaken 
the tears ran out of his eyes for very joy. 

PETE JONES. 

The jokes were not JJ^^^SS 
went against him pretty tea vily. Unea y 
tag young man f^^f.^jn ^ 
counter, and eyed Sam ^arplj a* J Wg bngi 

no attention to him for awhile, bx w ders 

ness, sending and recemng ^be^dehve^ ^ 
and selling tickets. But f^» x gentleman, 

that he was being scru turned b} the count y 
Such circumstances will beget an unea^ tee ^ 

awhile in the most tranqud ^ ^ 
voung man's curiosity to gratify its en a p » u Y oong 

" , 11 K Mr it Then he spoke, and said . xouu 



PERQUISITES. 67 

all over, and will be able to recognize me the next time 
you see me, without any further scrutiny at present ? " 

"I think I know you now," the young man replied. 

" Probably you do," said Sam, "but I would not advise 
you to mention it to any one." 

"Didn't you use to be around Bill King's livery stable, 
in Wooster," said the young man, "leading the horses 
out to water, sweeping out the stables, oiling the harness, 
and doing light jobs of that kind ? " 

Before Sam could reply, the agent spoke up, and said : 
"Of course he did. He doesn't like to admit it now, 
because he has a better situation, and considers himself 
above such work." 

"You can't fool me on Pete Jones," confidently ex- 
claimed the young man, then addressing his remarks 
to Sam, he said : "I knew it was you, Pete, as soon as I 
came in, but I wanted to be sure belore I spoke. You 
havn't forgotten the time, Pete, when Sal Judson doused 
you in the water trough because you said she stepped high, 
like a blind horse ? " 

There were several persons in the office now, who 
laughed heartily at Sam's discomfiture, and gathered 
around him, insisted on shaking hands with him, and con- 
gratulated him, saying: "Halloa, Pete! glad to see you. 
How did you leave things in Wooster % She steps high, 
does she 1 " and numerous like expressions. 

"O, leave off," said Sam, as soon as he could be heard, 
"I never was in Wooster." Then addressing the young 
man he said : "Don't allow these fellows to gull you like 
that. Don't you see they are making a fool of you \ " 

But he "couldn't see it," and persisted that he knew 
Sam was not Sam, but Pete Jones. 

PERQUISITES. 

It was customary for traveling shows, circuses, and the- 
atrical troupes, to dispense complimentary tickets pretty 
liberally to agents and operators at stations, thereby 



OS SAM JOIIXSON. 

.hoping to moderate the charges when their extra baggage 
was being checked. 

A change of night operators brought to Yan Wert an 
overgrown youth of nineteen, bright and intelligent, but 
too inexperienced in the ways of the world, and too honest 
to be " let loose " among railroaders. Not that railroaders 
are dishonest, or would take any mean advantage of an 
honest person, but their inherent love of fun prompts 
them to abuse simplicity and confidence. 

Noah Truxton, the new night man, early fell a victim to 
Sam's propensity for joking. The second night after his 
advent at Yan Wert, there was a show advertised of 
trained dogs, birds, etc. Sam did not wish to go, but he 
offered to work for Noah while he went, and presented to 
him two complimentary tickets besides. Noah was not 
particularly anxious to go. He did not wish to trouble 
Sam to work for him. "O, never mind the trouble, it's a 
pleasure," said Sam, and he prevailed on him to go. 

Sam gave him two tickets, not for the performance that 
Noah was going to witness, but tickets for a circus that 
had been in Yan Wert some time before. It was accidental 
on Sam's part, of course. Noah went to the show. He 
did not stop at the ticket office, but passed on up to the 
head of the stairs, handed his ticket to the door-keeper 
without looking at it, and was passing in, when the door- 
keeper grabbed him by the arm, pulled him back, was 
about to pitch him down stairs, and would have done so 
had it not been endangering the lives of others who were 
coming up. Noah explained that the ticket had been given 
to him, that he thought it was the proper one, and to show 
his sincerity, bought a ticket and went in. But he didn't 
remain long. His feelings were too lacerated to enjoy the 
exhibition. He came back to the office. Sam saw the mo- 
ment he entered that he was terribly " worked up." 

" What's the trouble, Noah?" said Sam; "didn't you 
like the entertainment ? Humbug, I expect. Most every- 
thing that travels now-a-days is." 



AN EPIDEMIC. 69 

"Yes, I was humbugged, Johnson," replied Noah, angri- 
ly, "though not by the show, but by you. And what's 
more, I don't like it, either." 

"Why. what do you mean, Truxton?" exclaimed Sam, 
with surprise. "What have I done to displease you." 

"You gave me the wrong tickets," answered Noah, 
4 ' and I came very nearly getting my head broken for pre- 
senting one of them and trying to pass in." 

"Can it be possible!" exclaimed Sam, (feeling in his 
pockets and bringing forth the right tickets.) "I did, sure 
enough, for here are the tickets you should have had. I 
beg pardon, Truxton ; accidents will happen, you know, in 
the best of families." 

AN EPIDEMIC. 

Operators are ingenious, or would be if they had time to 
develop their innate powers. Genius is contagious, or the 
desire to be men of genius is, at least. Like an epidemic, 
it pauses not in its course until the flame that feeds it has 
burnt out. 

While Sam was at Van Wert, one of these destructive 
floods of genius (destructive to prospective greatness.) swept 
over the land, and thrilled every telegraph operator' s heart 
with hopes of fame and fortune. The cause of the excite- 
ment was the attempt to invent a self-closing telegraph key. 
The mania seemed to have originated in New York City, 
and to have spread rapidly westward. The inventive spirit 
burst upon Sam like a cloud of glory ; at all events Sam 
thought so and felt so. He would soon astonish the tele- 
graphic world with a self-closing key so simple and so per- 
fect that they would think the millennium had come. He 
wanted an old key to work upon. As he had graduated 
at the Superintendent's "plug factory," and was on pretty 
familiar terms with him, he wrote to him, asking for an old 
key, stating that he (Sam) had a self- closer in his head 
which he thought he could make work if he had something 
to work upon. The Superintendent sent the key, and also 



70 SAM JOHNSON. 

a note with it in these words : "I have seen the self-closer 
in your head, Johnson. It works best when there is a 
piece of beefsteak in it." 

That was decidedly a rich hit, Sam thought, and a very 
suggestive one too. Sam did not invent a "self -closer." 
He was of the opinion that an operator who could not keep 
his key closed when it should be, was not capable of filling 
the position of operator, and no "self-closer" would make 
him competent. 

GUSHING. 

All phases of human nature are exhibited at a railroad 
station and on trains. There is no better place in the world 
to study the true and false feelings of parting and meeting 
friends and relatives. Sam's observations convinced him 
that mothers-in-law are the most demonstrative and affec- 
tionate at parting, and the most distant and unsociable at 
meeting. 

One morning a middle-aged man and two women came 
to the station at Van Wert. The man bought one ticket 
for Lima, twenty-five miles east. Sam soon learned, by 
their conversation, that the younger of the two women was 
the man's wife, and the other his mother-in-law. His wife 
kissed him "good bye," and wished him a safe journey, 
then stepped aside. The mother-in-law threw her arms 
about his neck, and sobbed and moaned: u O, John ! I'm 
so afraid that you will not come back to-morrow. I feel 
as though something was going to happen. God bless you, 
John, good bye ! " and she kissed him a dozen times, and 
held on to his hand until he was aboard the train. He was 
going on a freight train, and it stood at the station several 
minutes unloading and loading freight. 

The two women started away after a second leave-taking, 
more gushing than the first on the part of the mother-in- 
law. John stood on the platform at the rear end of the 
caboose, waving his hand at his departing relatives, as they 
turned to salute him at every few steps. When they had 



SNAPPISHNESS AND SIMPLICITY. 71 

gone about half a block, the mother-in-law turned about, 
began to "bookoo," and cried, "O, John! come here ; I 
can' t give you up ! " and she started toward him with 
arms extended and tears coursing down her cheeks. John 
got off the car and advanced toward her. When they met, 
the old lady clasped him in her embrace, and sobbed 
awhile ; then she held him at arm's length and gazed into 
his face ; then she kissed him, and looked at him again ; 
then repeated the kiss, then the hugging, all the time giv- 
ing expression to words of fear and anguish. The locomo- 
tive whistled for the train to start, and John had to use so 
much force to free himself from his mother in-law, that she 
sat down on the walk with a thump. But she was equal to 
the emergency, and jerked the red handkerchief from 
around her neck, and waved it at the receding train without 
ceasing, until it was out of sight. The next day John re- 
turned and was met at the station by his wife. The moth- 
er-in-law did not put in an appearance. 

SNAPPISHNESS AND SIMPLICITY. 

People of all classes take greater liberties, commit more 
follies, and shock the proprieties more at a depot, among a 
crowd of strangers, than they would think of doing, or 
would dare do in their own homes. 

One day a little, old woman came to the ticket window, 
at the Van Wert depot, and called for a ticket to Mans- 
field. She had a concave nose, snapping eyes and a creaky 
voice, and her face was sharp and bony. Beside her stood 
a big, lubberly, sleepy-looking, overgrown lad, who was 
doubtless the old lady' s grandson. 

Sam stamped the desired ticket, held it in his hand and 
said : " Three dollars and ninety cents." 

"Three dollars and ninety cents !" repeated the old lady, 
looking at Sam with astonishment. 

"That's the price, madam," said Sam. 

"I know better," she retorted, quickly. It's only three 
dollars and ten cents. I guess I ought to know as well as 



72 SAM JOHNSON. 

you do. I came from there here six years ago, and that's 
all I had to pay." 

" Three dollars and ten cents was the price then," an- 
swered Sam, " but during the war prices were raised." 

" I don't believe it !" she snapped, " I have heard how 
you fellows make money. You want to charge me three 
ninety, so that you can put eighty cents in your own 
pocket. I can see it in your eye ? you young rascal." 

This thrust of the old lady at Sam caused those within 
hearing to laugh heartily. The old lady counted out three 
dollars and ten cents, and persisted in demanding the 
ticket for that amount. Sam assured her that he could 
not sell it for that price, and replaced it in the case and left 
her. Just as the train was due she called again. Sam an- 
swered by his presence. The old lady screeched : ' ' Give 
me that ticket! Here's your money. I'll never buy an- 
other ticket here as long as I live. I'll go to another town 
first." 

A " KNOCK DOWN " ARGUMENT. 

The operator at Forest, sixty miles east of Yan Wert, 
had allowed a train to pass without delivering an order to 
it, which had been sent to him for that purpose. Nothing 
but the rarest good fortune prevented a collision. The dis- 
patcher asked the operator what excuse he had for not 
delivering the order. What excuse could he give ? None. 
He said that he had forgotten it. That it was certainly not 
intentional carelessness on his part ; that it was his first 
offense or neglect in the year that he had been on the line ; 
and he hoped this, his first transgression, would be over- 
looked, that he might have a chance to redeem himseF. 

%i Suppose that }'ou should kill a man," said the dis- 
patcher, " and offer, as palliation for the crime, the plea 
that he was the first man you had killed, do you suppose 
that that would clear you ?" 

That astonishing question was "too heavy" for Mr. 
Night Owl. However, he was not discharged. His pre- 
vious faithful services saved him. 



73 

TEMPTATION. 

Operators often have opportunities to line their pockets 
quite freely with ill-gotten gains. But, to their honor he 
it said, few instances are known where they have yielded 
to the tempter. Important secrets of a social, business and 
political nature become known to them. They are rarely 
divulged. Why % Because operators are trusted, because 
their employers and the public have confidence in them. 
They are not branded, the moment they enter the service, 
as dishonest. They are human, and humanity is proud. 
Place implicit confidence in a man and he will seldom be- 
tray it. Place the mark of Cain upon him, ostracize him 
from society, distrust and cast suspicioa upon him in all 
things, give him to understand by innuendoes, if not by 
plain speech, that you think he cannot be relied upon, and 
he will seldom prove to be otherwise. 

Van Wert was the county seat of Yan Wert County, and 
the county bordered on the Indiana State line. Yiolaters 
of the law in one State would endeavor to get across the 
line into the other, and thus gain time to escape. Once out 
of the State where the act was committed, they could not 
be pursued or arrested by the officers of that State. 

Yan Wert was so situated that it was made a rendezvous 
for outlaws from Indiana, and a highway for those passing 
out of the State. On this account the officers were vigi- 
lent, and kept a sharp lookout for suspicious looking char- 
acters. When persons were arrested who were not posi- 
tively known to be guilty, the telegraph was appealed to 
either by the suspected parties to establish their innocence, 
or by the officers to satisfy themselves of the party's guilt. 
Not infrequently operators who were called upon to dis- 
patch this kind of business were given to understand, in 
one way or another, by the culprits, that a favorable reply 
would be handsomely paid for. 

On one occasion a party had been placed under arrest at 
Yan Wert for horse-stealing. He sought the telegraph 
office to prove that he was not the person that he was sup- 



74 SAM JOHNSON. 

posed to be. He wrote his message, and handed it to Sam 
with a fifty dollar bill, remarking, in an undertone, accom- 
panied by a very significant wink : " No change !" 

At another time the owners of a patent right were about 
closing a very large sale of territorial rights, but lacked the 
signature of one of the patentees. This particular person 
resided in Albany, New York. He had written to the 
parties at Yan Wert that he would send a power of at- 
torney to sign his name on a certain day. Now, the Yan 
Wert parties were desirous of closing the bargain that day, 
fearing to allow the purchaser to sleep over it, lest he should 
rue it, and not fulfill his agreement the next morning. 
Could they get a telegram to the party at Albany, and a 
reply stating that the power of attorney had been for- 
warded, then they would affix his signature and close the 
contract. The Albany party had a country residence to 
which he repaired at four o'clock p. m. It lacked but a 
quarter of four when Sam sent their message- They had 
but faint hope of getting a reply that evening. The prin- 
cipal party visited the office every few minutes, so great 
was his anxiety. More than once Sam was given to under- 
stand, by indirect propositions, that he could name his own 
price, up in the thousands, for the production of the re- 
quired answer. 

Parties who deal largely in stock and grain are always 
anxious to get the first information of a rise or fall in the 
market. Operators are frequently approached by one or 
more of these dealers, in a cautious way, and hints are 
thrown out that if they should receive valuable information 
for another, and, withholding it for a time, communicate 
the same to them, they would not go unrewarded. 



One of the worst acts that railroad men are guilty of, is 
what is called, in railroad parlance, "Bulling." Every 
railroad company has very strict rules for the government 



"bulling." 75 

of its employes, and the running of trains. It is in the 
management of trains that the "bulling" is done. Rules 
and regulations, in a general sense, are more ornamental 
than useful in the proper handling of trains. There are so 
many emergencies continually arising, that could not have 
been foreseen or anticipated, and for which, therefore, pre- 
parations could not have been made, it is of the utmost im- 
portance that conductors and engineers should be men of 
good judgment and foresight, quick to plan and prompt to 
execute. Time is the Alpha and Omega of railroading. It 
is better to act quickly and make one blunder, than to hesi- 
tate and be the cause of ten. As a rule, engineers are bet- 
ter informed and are men of more experience than conduc- 
tors. The engineer's is a calling for life, the conductor's 
while fortune favors him. It requires no long apprentice- 
ship to prepare a man of ordinary business intelligence for 
the conductor's punch. True, he must have a knowledge 
of the making up and manipulating of trains. He must be 
acquainted with the division over whiqh he runs, and the 
ticket and freight regulations pertaining to trains. This 
information can be acquired in a year' s or two years' 
time, at most, while, to become a competent engineer, 
live years is none too long an apprenticeship. This is 
not speaking disparagingly of conductors. They are 
men of discretion, generally speaking, but their positions 
must be filled as circumstances require, and "seasoned 
material" is not always at Jiand. When the conductor 
and engineer of a train work against each other, it is some- 
what similar to the head of a snake striving to pull in one 
direction and the tail in another. Of course it will not do 
to carry such proceedings too far. If it should become 
known to the officers of the road, the guilty parties would 
be very likely to "take a walk." The most inexcusable 
"bulling" (in fact none of it is excusable), is done when 
two trains meet at a station, and both refuse to take the 
siding, one claiming that he has a right to the main track, 



76 SAM JOHNSON. 

according to rule, and the other that he cannot pull in, or 
that he cannot get out if he does. Sam relates an instance 
illustrative of this phase of "bulling." 

First section of train No. 18, Sam Beeler conductor, met 
train No. 15 at Upper Sandusky. No. 18 had the right to 
the main track. No. 15 should have pulled in at the upper 
end of the siding, but it did not, but wanted No. 18 to 
back down and allow her to back in at the lower end of the 
side track. This Beeler would not do, claiming that No. 
15 could have pulled in if she had wanted to, and now, 
that second section of No. 18 would be likely to run into 
his train if it was backed down around the curve. Both 
conductors were stubborn, and the engineers also, and the 
more they argued and swore about it, the firmer each be- 
came in his "bullheadedness." In this position they 
remained for three hours, blockading the road so that no 
other trains could go by, and confusing trains on other 
parts of the division. Finally a peremptory order from the 
Superintendent for No. 15 to back up and pull in on the 
siding severed the u Gordian knot." 

A LONG AND ARDUOUS SIEGE. 

At four o'clock a. m., Wednesday, April 17th, 1868, 
Sam was aroused from peaceful slumber by the night oper- 
ator, who informed him that he was wanted at the office. 
He hurriedly donned his clothes, and hastened to the 
depot amid pouring rain. There he learned that the 
bridge over the Anglaize River, twelve miles east, had been 
washed away, and that he was wanted to go there with the 
construction train and open an office. He learned, also, 
that Rock Creek, between Dixon and Monroeville, west, 
had overflowed its banks, and covered the track for a 
length of two miles, in some places washing it entirely 
away. This state of affairs caught three extra passenger 
trains at Van Wert. They could not be moved either way 
until the road should be repaired, which would be in the 
indefinite future. The passengers occupying these extra 



A LONG AND ARDUOUS SIEGE. 77 

trains consisted of vocal and instrumental musicians from 
every German society in the Eastern States, and one com- 
pany from Prussia. They were on their way to attend a 
grand musical entertainment at Chicago. Sam surmised 
that their presence all day would bring the office an in- 
creased amount of paid business, and as the night oper- 
ator was not posted in the rates, he preferred to remain 
and attend to it himself, and send the "night man" out 
on the line. It had been raining steadily and heavily for 
three days, and the whole country was under water. 
Telegraph poles had been washed out, and the lines 
broken and crossed, besides, the constant rain and conse- 
quent carrying off of the electric fluid to the earth 
made the working of the lines very difficult indeed. In 
order to get a working line on the division, it was nec- 
essary to splice and re splice short stretches out of the six 
different wires on the road, so that hardly an operator on 
the division worked the same consecutive wire. 

On occasions like this the ordinary telegraph business of 
the company is doubled and trebled. The operators 
in the superintendent's office are crowded and pushed 
with important orders and other dispatches. They be- 
come excited and nervous, and then woe be unto the 
operator who does not keep adjusted, and is continually 
breaking others, and cannot get his own business without 
much repeating on the part of the sender. 

When the music-loving Germans "turned out," and 
learned where they were, and how they were situated, 
they were disposed to make light of it, and treat it as 
a good joke, though a damp one. They made merry over 
it, sang songs and laughed, and were as jolly as the 
jolliest. They had money in plenty, and dispensed it lib- 
erally. They flocked into the telegraph office, and wrote 
messages in all kinds of hieroglyphics, murdered English, 
and twisted German. They wrote English better than 
they spoke it, so if Sam asked for an interpretation of 
a message it only made "confusion worse confounded." 



78 SAM JOHNSON. 

He gave that up. While this was transpiring, some 
would be asking when they were going to start, how much 
of the track was washed away, when would they reach 
Chicago, and a thousand other questions. 

One of the citizens opened a hall up town, and invited 
them to take possession, and give a concert. They did so, 
and favored the citizens with some excellent vocal and 
instrumental music. One of the engines gave a long, loud 
whistle, which brought all of them pell-mell back to the 
depot, thinking their trains were going to start. Disap- 
pointment begets harsh feelings. The water-imprisoned 
travelers besieged the telegraph office in strong force, and 
flung at Sam such a corruption of tongues that he fairly 
staggered beneath their weight. They wanted a definite an- 
swer as to when they would get away. That could not be 
given. This provoked some of them very much. Anything 
but suspense for them. Once more they rallied in the town 
hall and exercised their voices. They attacked the saloons 
and soon swallowed all the beer in town. There was a 
double supply on hand that day, too, for it was circus day. 
and saloon keepers had made preparations accordingly. 
When the beer gave out, they began to indulge in some- 
thing stronger. Mixing drinks in a man's stomach — like 
the coming together of strange cats — breeds ill feelings. 
Sam was the center target for all their grumblings. For- 
tunately he could not understand much of their storming, 
and thus escaped being literally annihilated. Finally they 
became so boisterous, and made such urgent and persistent 
demands upon the superintendent to be moved ahead, that 
he gave the order to start, first assuring the travelers that 
they would be taken beyond the reach of food or refresh- 
ments of any kind except water. 

Their departure was a great relief to Sam. It was four 
o'clock p. M., when they went away, and he had not had 
an opportunity to swallow a mouthful of food in peace 
since breakfast. 

Sam sent seventy-four paid messages that day, two press 



A LONG AND ARDUOUS SIEGE. 79 

reports of one hundred and fifty-two words each, and re- 
ceived forty -one paid messages, besides handling treble 
the usual amount of railroad business. Taking into con- 
sideration the condition of the wires, this was no small 
day's work. Sam was proud of it, and weary of it, too, 
and could have lain down and gone to sleep without rock- 
ing by the time the hour hand of the clock pointed to 
seven P. M. But he did not do so. Why ? Because the 
night operator had not returned. He would not return 
that night. He had gone to a farmer's house near his tem- 
porary office, taken a bed, and gone to sleep, and Sam was 
" elected " to fill his place at Van Wert. Sam was pretty 
thoroughly weaned from the ways of the night, which 
made this particular one seem all the longer and more 
tedious. Morning came at last, and with it increased work 
for Sam. Rock Creek had fallen sufficiently to permit the 
road to be repaired, and trains west were put in motion 
during the night. But the bridge over the Anglaize, east, 
had not yet been replaced, and most of the east bound 
trains were held at Van Wert, and their number was 
legion. Any one familiar with the running of trains 
knows what it is to have two and three miles of siding 
blocked with delayed trains that must be ready to move at 
any moment. First, the operator will have an order or a 
message to one conductor, then to another, which must be 
delivered immediately. Often the operator has to run the 
gauntlet of all the trains before he can find his man. 
When he returns he is fortunate if he does not get a "blow- 
ing up" from the dispatcher for being out of the office so 
long. Thus beset round about, pulled one way by the 
wires, pulled another by the trains, Sam put in another 
day and another night, and still the road was not clear, 
and no relief came. It was now Friday morning, Sam had 
not had his clothes off, nor an hour's sleep for forty-eight 
hours. He was a fright to behold. Clothes out of order, 
hair disheveled, eyes red and swollen, and a languid worn- 
out expression in his face, and a listlessness about all his 



80 SAM JOHNSON. 

movements, that made him a fit model for a statue of 
wretchedness. In this condition he worried through the 
day and evening, until eleven o'clock at night, when he 
was relieved by the return of the night operator. 

Sam returned to duty the next morning at his usual 
hour much recruited, but still weak from the fatigue of 
his "long pull and steady pull" to demolish time. 

Nothing of unusual interest transpired to disturb the 
tranquility of the Van Wert office until the arrival of an 
"error sheet," about the first of July, on the debit side of 
which was fifty -two dollars and twenty -five cents checked 
by New York office. The receipt of this document caused 
Sam to open his eyes so widely that trains could have 
passed in and out without danger of colliding. "Fifty- 
two dollars and twenty-five cents ! " he exclaimed, as soon 
as he could catch his breath, "won't leave me cigar 
money out of a month's salary, not to speak of an occa- 
sional toddy." 

By correspondence with New York office Sam learned 
that the press report which he had sent the New York 
Herald on that memorable 17th of April, and for which he 
had collected press rates, had been checked to him at com- 
mercial rates, making a difference of fifty-two dollars and 
twenty-five cents against himself. A disruption of friendly 
relations between the Herald people and the Western 
Union Company caused the Herald to be charged com- 
mercial rates. Sam was not aware of this state of affairs, 
and so explained. The company could not "see" the 
explanation. Van Wert office was debited with fifty-two 
dollars and twenty-five cents. They could see that, and 
would continue to see it until it was balanced by a remit- 
tance of the amount. 

The papers kept passing to and fro, through several 
hands, each time having a note added to the package by 
each, until it approached the size of a a half yearly supply 
of blanks. Sam got heartily sick of it. It began to wear 
on his nerves. He was sorely tempted, sometimes, to 



A LONG AND ARDUOUS SIEGE. 81 

pitch the bundle into the stove, and send it meandering up 
the chimney. 

One day when the superintendent came along, Sam 
asked him how many months the error sheet was likely to 
keep on its travels, and what would probably be the final 
disposition of it. The superintendent laughed, and said : 
"Don't be disheartened, Johnson, keep up your courage, 
and you will eventually wear it out." 

"It is more likely to wear me out," said Sam. It did. 
He resigned, and turned over the office to his successor, 
the first day of December, after having faithfully served 
the company at Van Wert, nine months, nights, and six- 
teen months, days, without missing a day from the pay- 
roll. 



THIRD EPOCH. 



NEWTOWN. 



New Year 5 s day, just one month after Sam Johnson had 
vacated Yan Wert office, we find him installed as agent 
and operator at Newtown, on the T. P. and W., (Tired, 
Poor and Wretched) railroad. The town was very new, 
in truth ^o-town wonld have been a most appropriate 
name for it. If houses are necessary to constitute a town, 
then indeed Newtown was not a town, unless, perchance, 
the depot be called a house, and two large granaries be 
called houses. 

The train halted. The conductor sang out: " JSTew- 
town !" Sam looked out of the car window to catch a 
view of the town. "Make haste, young man," spoke the 
conductor, "you can search for the city at your leisure, 
when we have left you." 

Sam needed not the second bidding. He quickly 
reached the depot platform, the conductor exclaimed : 
" All aboard ! " leaped aboard himself, and soon the train 
was out of sight. 

Here was room for observation. There were no narrow 
streets with towering buildings on each side to obstruct 
the view. The eye could wander in all directions to the 
line where the horizon kissed the earth, with only here 
and there a house, barn, or corn-rick to mar the view. 
To a lonely stranger, these evidences of civilization did not 
mar the picturesqueness of the scenery, but added a 
warmth and beauty to it that made it seem all the more 
home-like and sociable. Yonder to the south, on the 
summit of the rolling prairie, low down upon its base, a 
small frame house. Black smoke ascends from its single 
chimney, indicative, at least, of life within. To the west- 
ward, just beneath the horizon's rim, a giant stack of straw 



NEWTOWN. 83 

lifts its huge, snow-sprinkled body, gray and ruffled upon 
the view, like a frosted hill. Around to the north, and 
nearer and plainer to the sight, nestled in a shallow 
ravine, is a cottage, hooded with snow, and wrapped in 
winter's sable folds. Ah ! what is this so near and yet so 
drear? 'Tis the depot, cold and deserted. No sound 
greets the ear, save the moaning and sighing of the bleak 
winds on the wires that run into the office. There is no 
tramping in and out of excited, restless travelers, no clink- 
ing of baggage checks, no pitching about of trunks, no 
stamping of tickets nor clicking of telegraph instruments. 
Surely, this cannot be a railroad depot? " Oh ! I see," 
said Sam, " it is new. I am to be its first occupant," and 
he scanned its interior from the outside with increased 
interest. 

" How am I to get into it ? " was the next question that 
presented itself. " Some person in the neighborhood must 
have charge of the key, but who and where is that person ? 
The nearest residence is a mile distant. But no matter, I 
must go somewhere, the shadows of night are falling, and 
I am chilling to death standing here in the cold." 

Sam had barely finished revolving these embarrassments 
in his mind, when a hand was laid on his shoulder from 
behind. He turned quickly about, and was confronted by 
a small man who was hidden under a slouchy fur hat, and 
wrapped in a large woolly overcoat. Sam' s first thought 
was "A bear!" and instinct said: " Run ! " but before 
he could heed the warning, or his limbs could obey his 
desire to preserve himself by flight, his fears were dispelled 
by a pleasant voice which proceeded from under the hat, 
and from beneath the folds of the great coat, and said : 
" Are you the operator who was to come here ? " 

"I don't know who was to come here," said Sam, 
re-assured by the pleasant tone of the speaker's voice, 
and resuming his former cheerfulness, ' ' but I know that 
I am here, and that I am an operator." 

" Well, I guess you are the man," spoke the individual 



84 SAM JOHtfSCXN-. 

beneath the hat ; "here is the key to the depot, my name 
is Harry Hart, I am manager of those grain warehouses 
you see yonder," and he started away. 

" Please stop a moment, my friend," said Sam, "I want 
to inquire the name of the best hotel, and the way to it. 
I have never been in the city before, and am ignorant of 
its streets and hotels. 

The stranger laughed, and replied : "It is not the mul- 
tiplicity of streets that will lose you, but the absence 
of them. Neither need you worry about the choice of 
hotels, indeed you will be fortunate if you can find a place 
in which to remain over night." 

"That's one of the inconveniences of pioneering," said 
Sam. Then, turning to his new-made acquaintance, he 
said : "I must appeal to your kindness to aid me in find- 
ing board and lodging. I have been standing in this cold 
wind until I am almost as stiff as a mile post, and my 
appetite as sharp as beavers' teeth." 

"You can go with me, where you can get supper at all 
events, said he," "but I fear you cannot be accommodated 
with lodging. There are eleven children in the family, 
one grandmother, and the two parents. I am obliged to 
sleep with two of the boys regularly, and when there are 
visitors who remain over night, I have to sleep with three 
of the little imps. I said sleep. Sleep is a delusion. It 
is one continual kick, strike, twist, pull and roll, and 
double up, of one or the other of the little mischiefs, the 
whole night through. One does well to keep sufficiently 
covered to prevent freezing. To add to this dilemma, the 
old gentleman was severely injured internally, to-day, by 
a runaway team, and moans and groans continually," and 
he looked at Sam with such anticipated misery in his coun- 
tenance that it almost brought tears to Sam's eyes. 

" Why do you remain in such a place V 9 queried Sam. 

"Why did Jack do without his supper?" said Hart, 
" because he couldn't get it, of course. I board and lodge 
at Peter Marble' s because it is the only place where I can 
be accommodated." 



NEWTOWN. 85 

In this manner they conversed nntil the honse was 
reached. On entering there was snch a scampering and 
dodging about of children, that Sam thought the chairs, 
tables, and everything else were alive and jumping around. 
The furniture in the room was neat, though plain, and 
none too plentiful. The clean rag carpet, the curtains at 
the windows, and grandmother in her snow white cap, all 
looked homelike and cheerful, and gave to the room an 
air of refinement and taste entirely unexpected by Sam. 

Supper was announced. It was served in the kitchen. 
The older persons took seats, but the children remained 
standing. As many gathered about the table as could find 
" elbow room." A large baking pan filled heaping full 
with the spare ribs and back bone of a lately killed 
" porker" occupied the center of the table. Turnips, 
cornbread, and coffee were the side dishes. 

The hearty manner in which the young people — in fact, 
all of the family — partook of this plain but substantial fare, 
was truly refreshing to witness, and Sam enjoyed it as 
well as he would sitting down to a table groaning under 
luxuries. 

The landlady very kindly informed Sam that she would 
have been pleased to have granted him entertainment, but 
the limited spare room in the house, and the unfortunate 
condition of her husband, rendered it impossible. Sam 
thanked her, and, though sympathizing with the good 
lady, he could not but feel grateful that he had escaped 
the trying ordeal of passing a night in bed with three rest- 
less children. 

Supper over, Mr. Hart volunteered to conduct Sam to 
the next neighbor' s, about a mile distant. The snow was 
six inches deep, and still falling, making walking difficult 
and tiresome. Sam was not a "walkist," by any means — 
his favorite position was sitting down. But there was no 
other mode of locomotion at hand, and go they must. 

The neighbor's house reached, a knock on the door by 
Mr. Hart was answered by a peremptory : " Come in ! " 



86 sam JonNSO^. 

Mr. Hart opened the door and walked in, followed by 
Sam. Sitting close to a red hot coal stove, in the center of 
the ' room, was an old gentleman, with very gray hair, 
wrinkled forehead, a Roman nose that peeked into his 
mouth as if it were Inspector General of his stomach, and 
a pointed chin that turned upward in close proximity to 
his nose. The continual movement of his eyelids, the roll- 
ing of his eyes, and the general expression of his face, 
denoted shrewdness and self-conceit. Near him sat a 
large, middle-aged woman, and rolling on the floor by her 
side were two boys of about four and six years old respec- 
tively. 

The whole family jumped up, stepped back, and stared. 
Mr. Hart said, addressing the old gentleman, ' ' This young 
man is the telegraph operator we have been expecting. 
He has come to see if you can board him," and he stepped 
out of the door and departed, leaving Sam to his fate. 

The old gentleman inspected Sam from head to foot very 
deliberately, his eyelids closing and opening all the while. 
Then he suddenly blurted out : " Can't board you, sir. No, 
sir. Cannot &o it." 

Sam's appearance, at best, was not prepossessing, not cal- 
culated to inspire esteem and admiration at first sight, but 
he wore well and gained favor as he was better understood. 

Sam asked permission to sit down and warm himself, 
which was cheerfully granted. Conversation ensued. The 
old gentleman was inclined to be talkative and argumenta- 
tive. His favorite theme was religion. He had the Bible 
at his "tongue's' end." Sam was working for a point — a 
bed, in fact. If he could ingratiate himself into the old 
gentleman's good graces, he need not fear being turned 
away that night. Sam nerved himself for the task, and 
gave the old man battle on his own grounds, not strong 
enough to defeat him, but still severe enough to challenge 
his admiration and respect. The old gentleman arose to 
enthusiasm, to eloquence, and fairly shouted with the full- 
ness of his subject. 



NEWTOWN EXCITED. 87 

Time sped rapidly away unheeded by the old man and 
Sam, nntil the clock struck the hour of eleven. Sam arose 
to go, remarking that he did not know whether he could 
find the depot or not. 

" You are not obliged to be at the depot to-night?" in- 
quired the old gentleman. 

"It is preferable to remaining out in the cold," answered 
Sam. " I cannot look for lodging any further at this hour 
of the night." 

The old man's sympathies were now fully aroused, and 
he said, quickly : "You are welcome to remain here if you 
will accept our humble accommodations." 

Sam gained his point, was conducted to a small but neat 
room, and slept soundly in a clean, warm bed. He break- 
fasted with the family the next morning, and continued to 
board with the kind but eccentric family as long as he de- 
sired to. 

NEWTOWN EXCITED. 

New Years' morning, 1869, Sam Johnson opened tele- 
graphic communication with the world at Newtown. It 
was a wonderful day for Newtown, and Sam wondered also 
at the curiosity and ignorance of the Newtownians, tele- 
graphically. The people around and about Newtown had 
been anxiously looking for the arrival of the promised op- 
erator ever since the completion of the depot. Now that 
he had actually arrived, the news sped from one to another, 
and from house to house, with amazing rapidity. Before 
midday, New Years, the sitting room of the depot was lit- 
erally jammed with a surging, gesticulating^ excited crowd 
of boys, young men, middle-aged men, and old men. They 
were peaceable and well-behaved, did not ask questions, 
but expressed some of the crudest and most laughable opin- 
ions in regard to telegraphy that could possibly be con- 
ceived. One man said very confidently that he believed 
it was nothing more nor less than the evil spirit working in 
a secret way to advance the interests of his kingdom. An- 
other said he believed it was lightning gathered from the 



o« SAM JOHNSON. 

clouds and concentrated in vessels to shoot messages over 
the wires. He had doubtless heard of Br. Franklin's feat 
with the kite. These ominous assertions from the older 
persons naturally inspired the younger ones with fear. 
Whenever Sam approached them, they moved away to 
allow him to pass without touching them, as though they 
thought he was the "Old Nick," or a mysterious being 
from cloud land. One very verdant looking youth, appar- 
ently about nineteen, slipped inside the office door, seated 
himself on the floor tailor fashion, and remained in that 
position for three hours, gazing intently all the while at the 
instrument on the table. When Sam put his fingers on the 
key to send a message, or report a train, or took his pencil 
to receive a dispatch, the rural gentleman on the floor 
would stretch his long neck, like a turtle, his eyes would 
bulge almost out of their sockets, his mouth would fly wide 
open, his chest would swell, and he would present the most 
perfect picture of wonder and astonishment that could be 
imagined. He slipped out as quietly as he came in, not 
having spoken a word. What his thoughts were it would 
be diflicult to conceive. 

Newtown was an inland town, isolated from quick com- 
munication with the busy world. The nearest market 
where the people could dispose of the products of their 
farms was on the Mississippi River, sixty -five miles west. 
To this market they hauled their grain and drove their 
stock in the fall of each year. This period was before the 
advent of the railroad. Newtown was simply the name of 
the post office. The latter was located in the crown of 
Abel Thompson's hat. Wherever one found Abel Thomp- 
son, there he found the Newtown post office. The mail 
passed through Newtown (though not through Abel 
Thompson's hat), semi- weekly, on horseback. 

Newtown was an old settlement. Children had been 
born there who had grown to manhood and womanhood, 
and had not ventured twenty miles from their birthplace ; 
yet they were well advanced in the common branches of 



QUALIFICATIONS NECESSARY AT NEWTOWN. 89 

education, and were an industrious, Grod-fearing people. 
School houses and churches were numerous. All the edu- 
cation that was necessary to make them accomplished was 
a practical knowledge of the ways of the world. Is it not 
reasonable, then, to suppose that a community of contented, 
unaspiring people, such as composed the population of 
Newtown — whose opinions of telegraphy had been formed 
from what they had read — should be filled with a desire 
to improve the first opportunity to see and hear it work ? 

QUALIFICATIONS NECESSARY TO BE POPULAR AT NEWTOWN. 

Sam soon learned that to be successful at Newtown he 
must not only attend to the railroad business punctually 
and politely, but he must also be one of the people. To 
be one of them, he must know more about others' affairs, 
socially, than his own. Newtown had no theatres, no bil- 
liard halls, no club rooms, no police courts, no fire depart- 
ment, no brass bands, no secret societies, no dog catchers, 
not even a saloon or sewing society to furnish recreation 
and excitement for the people. People will talk. It is the 
design of the Creator that they should. If Newtown lacked 
entertainment of a public nature to furnish mind-food for 
the people to feast upon and talk about, then were they 
not excusable for talking of themselves ? 

In recording Sam Johnson's railroad experience and ob- 
servations, we must be pardoned if we seem to go beyond 
telegraphic communication. Nothing shall be penned ex- 
cept to illustrate the peculiar and trying situation of a rail- 
road servant, who is also a servant of the people. 

Newtown and vicinity was " honeycombed." with church- 
es. There was one on every section corner. They repre- 
sented all religious denominations in their congregations, 
as also all kinds of architecture in their construction. There 
was only one man in the community who did not belong to 
one church or another. He was the scape-goat for the sins 
of all the others, whom the Lord was hourly expected to 
visit with some terrible calamity. 



90 SAM JOHNSOX. 

The impression, had already gone abroad in the secluded 
neighborhood of Newtown, that railroaders were about as 
fast, in a worldly sense, as the trains and lightning which 
they handled. In fact, these modern inventions were re- 
garded by the more incredulous as agencies instituted by 
the devil to hasten his victims into his kingdom. Such be- 
ing the sentiments of the people of Newtown concerning 
the moral fitness of a railroader to become one of their 
number, and Sam being the first one of the "species" 
thrown among them, his actions were scrutinized closely, 
and his conversation disseminated throughout the neigh- 
borhood, weighed in the community' s balance, and judged 
accordingly. 

Sam did not attend church the first Sabbath he sojourned 
in Newtown. That was almost an unpardonable offense to 
Newtownianism. Sam heard the rumblings of the gath- 
ering storm and took warning. His second Sunday even- 
ing in Newtown was passed at church, if a school-house, 
where meetings are held, can be called a church. Previous 
to this evening the snow had melted, the roads had become 
muddy, and had then frozen as hard as iron. The convey- 
ance to the place of divine worship was a heavy, two-horse 
(on this occasion two-mule) wagon, having neither springs 
nor seats. Straw was spread in the wagon bed to make 
amends for the absence of seats and cushions. The wagon, 
when all were seated and ready to start, contained six 
young men and six young women, crowded into the box 
as closely as they could comfortably sit. It was Sam's 
misfortune to get a seat directly over the hind axle of the 
wagon. The driver urged his team as though his future 
salvation depended upon the quickness of his trip. Such 
a jerking, jolting, bobbing up and down, and knocking 
about and against each other, was never experienced in a 
wagon before. A sudden bounce of a hind wheel over a 
large frozen clod sent Sam into the air, and he came down 
astride of the end gate, and would have fallen to the 
ground had not one of the girls grabbed him by the coat- 



QUALIFICATIONS NECESSAPwY AT NEWTOWN. 91 

collar and pulled him in. This proceeding caused the oth- 
ers to shout and laugh uproariously, notwithstanding that 
they were on their way to church. It was very funny, no 
doubt, but Sam "couldn't see it." The far-famed "Rocky 
road to Dublin" pales in comparison with this. 

Sam entered the school house and sat down on one end 
of a long bench that had no support for the back. The 
house was built of logs hewn only on the inside. It was 
plastered overhead, and contained a row of desks next to 
the wall on each side, that seated two persons each. The 
only seat that was vacant when Sam entered was the bench 
mentioned. As others came in they should have occupied 
it. But they did not. They stood in the aisle and gazed 
at Sam with looks of unfathomable curiosity. After a 
while a buxom young girl sat down, very cautiously and 
slyly, on the end of the bench farthest from Sam. She 
watched him closely, as if she feared he might make a 
"lightning movement," and carry her away on the wings 
of electricity. Sam divined her fears and moved toward 
her, when up she sprang, as quickly as though a two hun- 
dred cup battery had suddenly been applied to her. 

In country places all attend church. None are left at 
home ; neither the infant nor the centenarian. They come 
by families. By watching the door, the number in each 
family can easily be ascertained. First enters the mother, 
with an infant in her arms, followed by the father with an- 
other and larger one in his stronger arms, and after him 
follow the other and older branches of the parental oak. 

Just inside and above the door there was no plastering 
on the ceiling, and Sam, being of an inquisitive turn of 
mind, and desirous of knowing the cause for every effect, 
set his wits to work to solve this new problem. He could 
not account for it scientifically or methodically, therefore 
he concluded that it must have been caused accidentally. 
He had not long to wait for a solution. Ere these thoughts 
had passed from his mind, a very tall man entered, stoop- 
ing as he came through the door, and straightening up 



92 SAM JOHNSON. 

immediately thereafter, his head came in contact with the 
ceiling, causing some of the plastering to fall. 

The congregation having assembled, the minister arose 
to open the service. After the customary hymn and 
prayer, he announced the text. He remarked that there 
was no desk or other convenience on which to lay his 
Bible, in fact none was necessary, as he had forgotten to 
bring it. He would select as a basis, as the fountain head 
from which he should draw the inspiration for his exhor- 
tation, a text that could be found in every page of the 
Bible, and inscribed in all the works of the Creator. It 
was : " God is good ! " 

Some people, particularly some ministers, seem to labor 
under the misapprehension that God is deaf, at least that 
is the conclusion deducible from their actions. The 
speaker on this occasion was one of this stamp. He spoke 
with excessive earnestness and great physical exertion, 
and indulged in the most ridiculous gestures and inappro- 
priate language, working himself into a state of excitement 
that carried him beyond himself and his subject, causing 
him to gasp for breath, and finally, to break down and 
close with : " and so forth, and so forth." 
• 

BUSINESS. 

The T. P. and W. was a new road, and the most poorly 
constructed and poorly managed road in the west. Trains 
were seldom, if ever, on time. If a train went through 
from one end of the road to the other without getting off 
the track, it had performed almost a miracle. Accidents 
were of daily and nightly occurrence. They were so nu- 
merous, and so certain to happen, that a daily paper in 
Peoria, in publishing them, invariably placed at the foot 
of the column headed: "T. P. and W. Railroad Acci- 
dents," "Continued in our next." 

Newtown was located in the heart of a rich stock and 
grain producing country. Cars were daily being loaded 
with corn and wheat for the eastern markets, and with 



BUSINESS. 93 

stock for Chicago and New York. An agent at such a 
station must be active and watchful to see that the com- 
pany's interests are properly cared for. Grain merchants 
are liable to overload cars, (accidentally (?) of course) so 
they must be properly looked after, otherwise they would 
realize very niGe profits in the saving of freight charges 
alone. 

The stock pens at Newtown were about three hundred 
yards from the depot. Very often there would be twenty- 
five or thirty cars of stock to load in one day. At such 
times an engine would be furnished purposely to assist in 
loading them, and to take them away. It was important 
that the way bills should be ready the moment the loading 
was completed. In order to have them ready, Sam was 
obliged to make numerous trips to the pens, to ascertain 
the number of cattle in each car. He must also see that 
the cross-bars to the doors were all up, and the doors all 
securely fastened. The walk from the depot at Newtown 
to the stock pens, particularly when it was muddy — and it 
was nearly always muddy the winter Sam was there — was 
not a pleasant recreation. Repeat the jaunt twenty times 
a day and — well, its horrors cannot be depicted. New- 
town mud was black, sticky as tar, and heavy as lead. 

The T. P. & W. put on more "red tape" than a govern- 
ment bureau. They required several slightly varied reports 
concerning the same things, and issued more complicated 
blanks than the traditional Philadelphia lawyer could un- 
derstand. The road had few cars of its own, and conse- 
quently depended upon other roads for a supply. They 
came from every road in the Union. Of forty- two cars on 
the siding one day, thirty-nine were from different compa- 
nies. The number and kind of each of these had to be re- 
ported to headquarters by telegraph at 5 p. m. every even- 
ing, and two reports, slightly altered, must be sent by 
train. The Company issued printed blanks, on which to 
copy train orders, that few conductors and engineers, or 
even operators could understand. Sam doubted if the su- 
perintendent himself understood them. 



94 SAM JOHNSON. 

The T. P. & W. was designated by conductors of other 
roads as "the knock-down road." The careless and 
reckless manner in which the business of the road was 
managed, gave conductors so disposed opportunity to 
"sink" almost every dollar they collected. Conductors 
gave up positions on other roads, and came* on the T. P. & 
W., simply because of its reputation for liberality (3). 

Newtown was situated at the summit of a heavy and 
winding grade of seven miles that led up from Spoon River. 
These seven miles of track were a fruitful source of annoy- 
ance and expense to the Company, and also caused Sam 
much vexation and extra labor. The country sloping 
down to Spoon River was thickly studded with small, 
gnarled, stunted oak trees and undergrowth. It was a 
public pasture in the spring and summer for everybody's 
cattle. The cattle were branded and turned out in the 
spring, to be gathered in in the fall. The railroad found 
its way through this uneven, hilly country, by following 
the small ravines and watercourses. To these streams the 
cattle came to drink. The cattle were so numerous that it 
was almost impossible for a train to get through in day 
time without killing or injuring one or more of them. The 
cattle were buried by the section men, and the brand, age, 
and probable value reported to Sam, who was to adjust the 
losses with their owners, and report to headquarters. 
Whoever heard of a man demanding a reasonable reim- 
bursement of a railroad company for damages sustained 
by him 1 Out of a hundred or more cases at Newtown, 
Sam failed to find one. 

These cattle not only killed themselves, but they also 
threw trains from the track, and delayed others. Sam was 
often compelled to remain on duty all night, on account of 
such accidents. 

A COLORED JOKE. 

The people of Newtown were so sanctimonious, and al- 
ways wore such "Sunday -go-to-meeting" faces, and fol- 



A COLORED JOKE. 95 

lowed their noses so straight, deviating neither to the right 
nor to the left, that Sam feared to perpetrate a joke on one 
of them, lest he should be committing the "unpardonable 
sin." During Sam's whole pilgrimage in .Newtown, he 
"fathered" but one joke, aud that was more trick than 
joke. 

Old Granny Brown, the only colored woman in Newtown, 
came to the office one day to send a message. She said 
she wanted to see the message go herself. She' d hearn tell 
how drefful quick de tullygoff war, an' how de meffages 
went so fast nobody could see 'em, an' now she war gwine 
to watch dis'n hersel. 

Sam presently "raised" the office to which the message 
was directed, sent it, and then turned to Granny and said, 
"It's gone ; I've sent it." 

"Come, now, Masser Operator," said Granny, rolling 
her large white eyes, and grinning good-naturedly, "you 
better not dun go to foolin' wif dis yah yaller gal. Don' I 
see de meiiage dah on de table afore you ? " And she ha ! 
ha ! ha'd long and loud. 

Sam saw that he must slip the message away somewhere 
if he wished to part from his incredulous customer. He 
folded the message a number of times, and then told Gran- 
ny to step to the door and watch the wires, for he was go- 
ing to send it. She turned her head to the door, and the 
moment she did so, Sam slipped the message under the re- 
lay, clapped his hands together, and exclaimed, "There it 
goes !" 

"Wha? wha?" shouted Granny, scanning the wires with 
wide- stretched eyes. 

"Oh, you weren't quick enough," said Sam. 

" Wal, I do declar ef dat don' jes' tak de kinks all out 
o' de wool on dis yah yaller gal's head, den I ain't no 
Christian ; " and she walked away looking greatly puzzled. 

ODDS AND ENDS. 

Sam's working hours at Newtown were from 7 a. m. un- 
til 9.50 p. m., provided the 9.50 train was on time, which 



96 SAM JOHNSON. 

was seldom the ease. If it was not, he had to remain until 
it came. After this hour he had to walk a mile to his 
lodging, either through mud, slush and rain, or through 
snow, or over bare, frozen ground. Sometimes the wind 
blew so fiercely and coldly that it almost froze his breath, 
and he with difficulty kept on his feet. Sam was not a 
" heavy weight." One hundred and one pounds was the 
highest notch he ever turned. If a day passed over the 
heads of the Newtownians without wind, it boded evil, and 
they straightway began to pray. The salutation of one 
Newtownian on meeting another was invariably something 
about the wind. "It's pretty breezy." "It's fearful!" 
"It's wild ! " " It's blowing a gale," and like expressions. 

Sam noticed that nearly every man in Newtown thirty 
years old or more was bald-headed. The prevalence of 
this custom or calamity puzzled him very much for a while. 
" Probably they are a bald-headed race," he thought. But 
no, that could not be, for they were not born so, if their 
infantile appearance could be judged by that of their chil- 
dren. Time revealed the cause of their bare heads. The 
wind was the agent that had shorn them of their strength 
and their beauty. 

Another Newtownian peculiarity was, they were all re- 
lated, one to another, either by marriage or by blood. If 
one is condemned, all are condemned. If one is praised, 
all are praised. Silence is the essence of wisdom in New- 
town. 

Combating the vrihd, rain, snow, mud, and cold three 
times a day, passing to and from his meals and lodgings, 
began to exhaust Sam' s strength. He concluded to prepare 
a "bunk" in the depot, and pass his nights there. He 
was induced to adopt this expedient by another considera- 
tion also. He was express agent, and often had charge of 
large amounts of money. There was no safe in the depot, 
consequently he had to carry money packages about with 
him. Going to his lodging alone late at night was hazard- 
ous, if not positively dangerous. 



ODDS AND ENDS. 97 

Newtown lightning, like everything and everybody in 
Newtown, is no respecter of persons, needs no introduction, 
and is on sociable and familiar terms at first sight and 
touch. 

One night at Newtown Sam was unwell, barely able to be 
about, yet he dare not retire, for the 9.50 train had not 
passed, though it was then after eleven o'clock. He 
stretched out on his instrument table, to be within hearing 
of the instrument, if he should be called. It was a fearful 
night. 

'* The wind blew as 'twad blaw it's last; 
The rattlin' showers rose on the blast; 
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd"; 
Loud, deep, and long the thunder bellow'd ; 
That night a child might understand, 
The de'il had business on his hand." 

At times the office would be literally ablaze with light- 
ning, so closely did one flash follow another. This warfare 
of the elements did not disturb Sam. He had become ac- 
customed to it, and rather liked it than otherwise. 

" The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; 
Near and more near the thunders roll." 

Sam heeds them not. Who knoweth what a second may 
bring forth % Look at Sam now. He is on his feet, trem- 
bling violently and staring wildly. Where are the boots 
that were on his feet a moment ago % There they lie on the 
floor, the bottoms off and the seams ripped open. And his 
pantaloons, alas ! they, too, have been ripped open at the 
seams, and hang loosely about him, held up only by his 
suspenders. And his coat, too, has been "rent asunder" 
at every seam. From a well-dressed young man he has 
instantly been converted into a u rag man." 

While Sam was lying with his head in close proximity 
to the instrument, a flash of lightning leaped off the "cut 
out," and performed what might properly be called a 
" freak of lightning," divesting Sam of his outer garments 
without injuring his person. Though unhurt, Sam was 
never worse frightened in his life. 



98 SA3I JOHNSON. 

SAM EESOLVES TO LEAVE NEWTOWN. 

Winter wore away and spring time came, but not spring. 
A rainy season came in its stead. The tenth day of May 
arrived, the day that united the east and the west by an 
iron band, a silver tie, and a golden spike. On that day 
the wires all over the Union were connected with the ham- 
mer that was to strike the final blow that should consum- 
mate one of the mightiest undertakings of the age. Sam sat 
in his office at Newtown, nervously listening to catch the 
sound that should be heard in every telegraph office, from 
the Pacific* to the Atlantic, from the sunny South to the 
breezy North. Two thirty-eight p. m. was the time appoint 
ed when the first stroke of the hammer was to be made. It 
did not fall until two fifty-eight. Those twenty minutes 
decided Sam's future, in one sense at least. W hile waiting 
and listening, Sam's imagination naturally carried him to 
the place where the proceedings were actually in progress 
that were to bring about this grand union. From there his 
mind quicklv passed to the golden sun- set land, and as he 
recalled the many glowing accounts he had heard and read 
of the golden sands and the sunny clime of California, and 
then thought how near it would soon be, he exclaimed 
aloud, "I'll go there ! I'll leave Newtown and every other 
town behind me, and tarry not in my westward course 
until I have beheld the blue waters of the Pacific." The 
hammer came down. It drove Sam's resolution deeper and 
deeper into his heart. It clenched it with a golden spike. 
Fron^ that moment he was wedded to a new idol — California. 
Sam resigned as operator and agent at Newtown, June 
1st, but he did not get away then. Operators were in de- 
mand at that time, or probably the T. P, & W. people were 
unwilling to part with Sam, as he was offered ten dollars a 
month additional salary to remain. But no, Newtown 
could not hold him now. His star was traveling westward, 
and he must follow it. He was relieved on the last day of 
June. He purposed starting to his home in Ohio the next 
day, so as to be there to unite with his own people in cele- 



u OUT OF THE FRYIXG-PAX INTO THE FIRE." 99 

braling his country's natal day. He did not start. The 
operator at Hollis, learning that Sam was not on duty, called 
him to the key the morning of July 1st, and told him that 
he had broken the steel spring in his cork leg, that in con- 
sequence he had to use a crutch, that he would have to go 
to Chicago to get it repaired, that an operator could not be 
found "high or low" to fill his position while he should be 
gone, and that it would be a great favor and an act of mercy 
if he would come and work for him while he should go and 
get his artificial limb repaired. 

This was a "stunner" for Sam. He had set his heart on 
being at home on independence day. He would disappoint 
his friends and himself also if he did not go. But then 
again, he thought that a few days would not make any ma- 
terial difference to him or his kinsfolk, and it would cer- 
tainly be a great accommodation and relief to an unfortu- 
nate individual. He therefore decided to remain and help 
his fellow operator out of trouble. 



Friday afternoon, July 2d, Sam turned his back on New- 
town and entered the cars bound to Hollis. There were no 
tears shed at his departure, nevertheless many regretted 
seeing him go. Though he often shocked the religious 
proprieties of the sedate Newtownians, yet they could not 
but admit that he was a well-meaning, jolly fellow. 

The train that bore Sam away from Newtown, sped along 
on its heedless course, over the winding track, down into 
narrow ravines, across bridges, through cuts, and on and 
on until it reached Spoon River. There it halted. The 
road-bed skirted the river bank for some distance. The 
river had risen and washed the embankment away, leaving 
the ties and rails resting on a smooth rock declining to the 
river. Trains dared not attempt to pass over it. To do so 
would simply be a sudden plunge into the rushing, swell- 
ing, muddy waters, and all would be over. 

The train remained at this place until three o'clock a. m., 



100 sam jonxsoN. 

before the road was made sufficiently safe to admit of its 
passing over. The passengers beguiled the long, tedious 
hours by listening to the lullaby of millions of musquitos, 
and engaging them in desperate single encounters, and in 
bloody battles, when myriads were pitted against one per- 
son. Musquitos are irrepressible, always singing, always 
happy, never weary, and the most ill-mannered and heart- 
less of all God's creatures. The Illinois musquito is a true 
sucker. He will suck himself to death — so full that he will 
burst. One hundred of them will suck a man as dry as a 
smoked herring. Most musquitos, like all animals except 
man, spurn tobacco as they spurn death. Not so the Illi- 
nois musquito, at least the Spoon River tribe. Sam smoked 
half a box of fine Havanas, and almost puffed his life away 
trying to disgust them, but no, they seemed to relish the 
smoke, to admire the beautiful rings that he formed in the 
air ; and to show their appreciation and express their thanks, 
dove at his hands as if they wished to shake them in true 
human style. No matter how much Sam resisted, and tried 
to prevent them from being grateful, they would not get 
insulted or lose their tempers, but would sing as merrily as 
ever, and patiently await a more favorable opportunity. 
They finally became so unbearable that the lights were all 
put out in the car. Now, indeed, had the musquito tri- 
umphed, which the passengers soon learned to their sorrow. 
Darkness is the musquito' s native element. He has no 
eyes — he is governed by taste altogether. He tastes a man 
a long distance. That is the reason he is always so happy. 
His bill is full of the taste though his stomach be a vacuum. 

Sam said that he believed the mission of the musquito 
was to teach man cheerfulness and perseverence. 

Every one in the train was greatly relieved when it moved 
away from death-dealing Spoon River. 

HOLLIS. 

At 7:30 a. m. Sam alighted from the train at Hollis. 
The operator handed him the keys to the ticket cases, 



HOLLIS. 101 

stepped aboard the same train by which Sam had arrived, 
and departed without a word of instruction. Sam watched 
the fast disappearing train until it could no longer be seen. 
He had never done so before. Something seemed to tell 
him that he should have kept on. He looked about him, 
and thought of the lone traveler in the wilds of Africa. 
Of all the forsaken places that he had ever gotten into, 
this one "took the rag off the bush." Newtown was a 
Paradise in comparison with it. Sam was grievously 
tempted to break a leg and get away. If operators could 
have been produced as quickly as legs could have been 
broken he would have done it. 

Water, water, water, east, south and west, with steep, 
rugged hills north, covered with scrubby oak ; but one 
little, old log cabin in sight, one little, old woman look- 
ing out of its one small window, one little, old woman 
standing in its narrow door ; and one little, old man stand- 
ing at the switch target. Such was Hollis. "Gfod pity 
Hollis ! " exclaimed Sam, feelingly. 

Hollis was the name for the junction of the T. P. and 
W., with the P. P. and J. railroad. The fact of its being 
a junction was the reason of its having a telegraph office, 
in truth of its having an existence at all. Sam surveyed 
the office. Dirt, dirt, dirt everywhere. In one corner 
was a bed with a musquito bar over it. "Musquito bar," 
thought Sam, "why, the musquitos will fly away with 
the flimsy thing." However, he was "in for it," and was 
not going to grieve over it long. 

Hollis was two and a half miles from the Illinois River, 
in a straight line, yet the river extended to the office door. 
From the first day of April until the first day of July, 
there had not passed twenty-four consecutive hours during 
which it did not rain.' The whole country was deluged 
with water. The rivers overflowed their banks far and 
wide, and the land above water was like a sponge. 

Sam was hungry. No need to look for a hotel. There 
was only one house in sight, and that was but little larger 



10*2 SAM JOHNSON. 

than a respectable pig pen. He asked the little, old man 
where the former operator had obtained his meals. He 
rnbbed his bony hands together, smiled all over his little 
face, and said : " He gets his meals from Pekin, by train.'' 

" What train brings his breakfast?" said Sam. 

"The nine-iifteen train," he replied. 

Sam consulted his watch. It was exactly eight o'clock. 
" Merciful heavens ! " he exclaimed, "must I fast an hour 
and a quarter yet?" Then he placed his hands on his 
stomach, and walked to the edge of the water, contemplat- 
ing the question: " Which is the easier death, drowning 
or starving ?" 

Slowly, slowly the hours dragged their seemingly never- 
ending, dreary length along. The clouds settled low down 
upon the hill tops, and held the day in their gloomy 
embrace, and when darkness at length spread her mantle 
over the earth, it was more dismal still. The evil doer 
loves darkness because it enables him to ply his vocation 
undiscovered. ISJot so the musquito, he never takes a 
mean advantage of any one. Whether his intended victim 
be asleep or awake he warns him with the unceasing chant 
of his simple lay that he is in search of blood. Sam found 
the Hollis musquito to be a different variety from the 
Spoon River tribe. The Spoon River musquito has a 
short bill, the Hollis musquito has a bill — bill of fare — as 
long as the longest ever printed, and he --goes" for every- 
thing in his bill, and gets it, too, if it is in the establish- 
ment. 

SAM'S FOURTH OF JULY BREAKFAST. 

The Fourth of July, 1869, came on Sunday — that is, 
where it came at all. It didn't come to Hollis. ISTo train 
came from Pekin to Hollis Sundays, consequently Sam 
would have no breakfast, nor any other meal that day, 
unless he went to Pekin to get it. After eleven o'clock he 
could go where -he liked, provided he returned Monday 



SAM'S FOURTH OF JULY BREAKFAST. 103 

The little, old switchman knew that Sam could not get 
breakfast until he arrived at Pekin, and so extended to 
him an invitation to breakfast with himself and family. 
Sam's better judgment told him : "No, don't go," but his 
sympathies triumphed, for he saw that the little, old man 
would be greatly pleased should he accept the invitation, 
and so he replied : "Thank you, I shall be happy to par- 
take of a Fourth of July breakfast with you." 

The little, old man hastened to the house to inform the 
two little, old women that the operator would come to 
breakfast with them, and then there was a great fluttering 
about the little, old house for a good long hour. Then the 
little, old man conducted Sam to his little, old mansion, 
and set him down to his little, old table. He did not intro- 
duce the two little, old women ; indeed it was not custom- 
ary so to do in rural towns in Suckerdom, as Sam had 
learned while at Newtown. Sam was curious to know 
which was the little, old man's wife, and which wasn't, 
and wondered how he knew the one from the other, for 
each was the exact counterpart of the other in size, fea- 
tures and voice. 

Ah ! talk about fine meals, Fourth of July feasts S 
Hollis out-Hollis' them all. Sam was handed a cup of 
coffee, black and strong. No sugar, no milk. The little, 
old man passed him a piece of fat side meat on his 
fork, and one of the little, old women reached to him a 
piece of cornbread with her hand, and the ceremony was 
ended, and "all hands laid to." Sam strove to fulfil the 
Scripture injunction, " Eat what is set before you, and ask 
no questions," but it was a fearful task. He could 
manage to eat the cornbread, but his stomach revolted 
against the fat meat and strong coffee. The little, old 
women noticed Sam's uneasiness, and looked as though 
they really pitied him. At this moment a little, old hen 
flew in at the little, old open window, and right over Sam' s 
head, and lit on a shelf opposite to him. The little, old 



104 SAM JOHNSON-. 

women's faces brightened, and they both said, at once: 
"Would the operator like an egg i" 

"That hen is my deliverer," thought Sam, and he 
silently thanked the Lord for hens. 

"I am very fond of eggs," said Sam, in answer to the 
two little, old women's question. Immediately both arose 
from their seats at the table, each grabbed an egg from a 
box on the shelf on which the hen had lit, broke it on the 
rim of the frying pan, wherein the side meat had been 
fried, which was on the stove with the warm fat still in it, 
dropped the egg into the pan, stirred the fire, and as soon 
as they (the eggs, not the two little, old womea)had cooked 
sufficiently, one of them carried them to Sam's plate, and 
deposited the contents of the frying pan thereon. The 
eggs swam in the fat, and looked more like little drowned 
chickens, just out of the shell than anything else Sam 
could think of. He had said that he was fond of eggs, 
and there opposite him sat the two little, old women, 
looking so very happy because they thought they had got 
something the operator could eat. Sam vowed he would 
eat those eggs though he should strangle in the attempt. 
But O ! what a struggle to keep them eaten. He excused 
himself, and got away from the little, old house as soon as 
he could, politely, and out of sight of its inmates, and 
then he quickly parted with his Fourth of July breakfast. 

A PERILOUS RIDE. 

At eleven o'clock Sam started to Pekin, in company 
with several others who came to Hollis by train. Pekin 
was on the opposite side of the Illinois Kiver. The river 
was two miles and a half wide. This distance had to be 
accomplished on foot, over trestle work, the water running 
beneath it from live to twenty -five feet deep. One of the 
party was a young lady. She was the bravest of all. 
Walking, running, skipping from tie to tie, turning 
about, laughing at the slow, carefully moving "proces- 

One man became very dizzy- 



A PEKILOUS EIDE. 105 

He could walk but a few steps until he would have to sit 
down and steady himself. In this manner the crowd shuf- 
fled along to the main stream . ' ' The draw-bridge is open ! ' ' 
screamed the lady in advance, and immediately consterna- 
tion overshadowed the countenances of all. "How would 
they get over?" was the question that weighed heavily on 
the minds of all. To go back to Hollis was little better 
than starvation. The only alternative was to try and at- 
tract the attention of a boatman on the opposite side of the 
river by hollowing and waving handkerchiefs. Finally, 
after all had made themselves hoarse and weak, a boatman 
noticed them, and started toward them, but he was a long 
time getting over. The current was very strong and rapid, 
and he had to keep his boat headed almost directly against 
it. Arriving where the pedestrians were waiting, the boat- 
man informed them that he could only carry nine. That 
would leave three behind. None wanted to remain. They 
would rather drown. Notwithstanding the boatman's 
forewarning of a watery grave, the anxious travelers pre- 
vailed on him to take them all. Their united weight 
almost sank the boat. They had to proceed cautiously, 
and very nearly down stream. Twice the boat dipped, and 
half filled with water. In the crowded condition of the 
boat bailing it out was difficult. All got their feet thor- 
oughly wet. 

" And still they rowed amidst the roar, 
Of waters fast prevailing." 

After a perilous half hour on the water the boat touched 
the muddy shore, one mile and a half below the town, 
and the cramped, forlorn passengers leaped ashore, hearti- 
ly thankful that they were on land once more. They were 
in fine condition and humor to celebrate the glorious 
Fourth by the time they had tramped through the mud 
and slush to the city. Sam stopped at the first eating 
house that "came in his way," and did ample justice to a 
good meal. 

The weather was delightful, and the Germans were cele- 



106 SAM JOHNSON. 

bra-tin g the Fourth in grand style. Parading, dancing, 
singing, eating and drinking. Some societies celebrated 
on Saturday the third, some on Sunday the fourth, and 
still others on Monday the fifth. 

Monday morning Sam returned to Holiis by an early 
train. Tuesday his sufferings in that desolate place were 
to have ended, but they didn't. The operator whom 
he had relieved did not return until Thursday. Sam 
departed from Holiis after the operator returned, in the 
first train bound to Peoria. He shed not a tear, and 
heaved not a sigh for the place and the people he left 
behind, not even the little, old house, the two little, old 
women, nor the one little, old man won his sympathy. 

SAM ENRAGED. 

Sam called at the telegraph office at the depot at Peoria, 
to have a chat with the operator, who was an ' ' old time 
friend." In the course of their conversation Sam mentioned 
his reasons for stopping at Holiis. 

"What?" exclaimed his friend, looking greatly sur- 
prised, "did he tell you that he had broken his artificial 
limb, and that he was going to Chicago to get it repaired ?" 

"Certainly he did," said Sam, his curiosity now excited 
by the earnestness and astonishment with which his friend 
put the question. " Is it not true? Did he not go to Chi- 
cago? Has he been 'playing' me?" 

" 'Playing' you! I should think he had," said his 
friend. "He has been no farther than Washington, just 
east of here, where his parents live. He was here an hour 
this morning, and did nothing but talk of the jolly time he 
has had in celebrating three fourth of July's in one year." 

Sam was amazed beyond expression — rendered speech- 
less for the moment. He got up, went out, and walked the 
streets for an hour. He bought a heavy cane, went back 
to the depot, and told his friend -Ralph that he was going 
to Holiis. He would probably stay a week — he thought 
very likely the operator would want to go to Chicago to get 
some repairs done to his head. 



"soulless corporations." 107 

Ralph laughed at first, but seeing Sam's determined 
looks, and the revengeful tire flashing in his eyes, turned 
his mirth to remonstrance, and finally prevailed upon him 
to give up the idea of seeking satisfaction for his injured 
feelings in such a questionable manner. 

This abuse of confidence and kindness rankled in Sam' s 
bosom for many a day. It was the meanest thing he ever 
knew an operator to do. 

" SOULLESS CORPORATIONS." 

When Sam took charge of Newtown office, he was made 
express agent, with the understanding that he should be 
remunerated for his services with a commission in propor- 
tion to the amount of business done. He had not received 
this commission previous to leaving Newtown, and as the 
company' s chief office was in Peoria, he called on the man- 
ager for the purpose of having a settlement. 

As soon as Sam entered the office, he was told by the 
manager that the agent at Newtown had been robbed Sat- 
urday night of nine hundred dollars, and he was asked if 
he knew any person in Newtown who he thought might 
commit such an act. 

' c Every man in Newtown, except one, is a member of 
church," answered Sam, "and they all wear long, solemn 
countenances that would defy a prophet to discern what is 
behind them." 

"What kind of a man is the one exception you speak 
of?" queried the manager. 

"He is old and rich, charitable and kind, a moral man 
beyond suspicion," said Sam. 

"Then you can think of no one there whom you would 
suspect?" asked the manager. 

' ' No one. I understand that you have arrested the agent 
and thrown him into prison, charging him with being the 
party or one of the parties to the theft," said Sam. " Have 
you any good reason to think he is deserving of such treat- 
ment?" 



108 SAM JOHNSON. 

"Our detectives cannot trace the theft to any other per- 
son, therefore they suspect him, and have put him in jail 
hoping to make him confess," said the manager. 

"If you have no further inquiries to make, I would be 
pleased to state the business that brought me here," said 
Sam. 

"Proceed." 

"You are aware that I have resigned the agency at Xew- 
town, and that I have never been paid for acting as the 
agent of the express company there. I have called to-day 
for a settlement." 

"We have no statement at hand of the amount of busi- 
ness you transacted, and it will take some time to get it 
from Newtown, therefore we cannot settle with you at 
present," said the indifferent manager. 

"I have a copy of the amounts here, which I will guaran- 
tee is correct to the penny," said Sam, handing it to the 
manager. 

The latter unfolded it, looked it over carefully, then laid 
it on his desk and said : " You have done a very good bu- 
siness for so small a place. I must inform you, however, 
that the company allows very small commissions to new 
offices. Should we pay you a salary, what sum would be 
satisfactory?" 

" If I should be remunerated in proportion to the respon- 
sibility you wish your agents to assume, and the risks that 
I ran," said Sam, "I should be entitled to fifty dollars a 
month. You did not furnish a safe, not even a tin box, in 
which to secure money packages. I was obliged to carry 
them with me whenever I left the depot, even to my meals. 
Often these packages contained from one to five thousand 
dollars, consigned to stock shippers, who would not call for 
them sometimes within two weeks. Any person at the 
train when these packages arrived, could see them handed 
to me. In order to protect myself, and your interests, I did 
not venture away from the depot after dark. The man 
who took my place would not sleep in the depot. What is 



SOULLESS CORPORATIONS. 109 

the result? The third night after my departure he is 
stopped on his way to his lodgings, a revolver is placed to 
his head, and the express money packages demanded. Yon 
'follow this by imprisoning him, thereby reflecting upon his 
character. And why do you do this ? Simply because you 
cannot find the thief or the money. I suppose, if the agent 
had been murdered, and the murderer and the money had 
not been found, that you would have had a post mortem 
examination to see if he had not swallowed your pack- 
ages," and Sam looked at the stolid manager defiantly. 

"Mr. Johnson, I am not disposed to argue the matter," 
said the manager. "If you are willing to sign a receipt in 
full for your services as express agent while you were at 
Newtown, for five dollars, we can close the transaction at 
once." 

"Five dollars for the whole time I was at Newtown?" 
said Sam, thinking it utterly improbable that such could 
be the meaning of the manager's proposition. 

"Exactly," was the laconic reply. 

Sam looked him squarely in the face for a minute, then 
turned about and walked slowly away without speaking. 

We will leave Sam to his thoughts. We shall probably 
not hear of him again until, he arrives in California. 



FOURTH EPOCH. 

CALIFOKNIA. 

Sam Johnson awoke at the peep of day, August 3, 1869, 
in the State of California. The train was winding in and 
out of ravines and canons, around peaks and points, 
over rushing mountain streams, beneath huge overhang- 
ing rocks, into and through dark, dismal tunnels, beneath 
seemingly never-ending snow sheds — on, and on, and up, 
and up amidst the towering pines, the snow-capped moun- 
tain peaks — almost to the very clouds. It was grand : it 
was glorious. It filled Sam's soul with awe and rever- 
ence for the mighty creative power that brought such stu- 
pendous works into existence, and exalted his opinion of 
man for his perseverance and skill in overcoming these 
giants of nature. 

" Tickets!" sang out the conductor. O! what a fall 
was there, for Sam. From the very air of heaven, the 
silver lined clouds, the white-robed sentinel peaks, the 
waving pines, the rushing waters ; from the most sublime 
in nature and grand on earth, to — "Tickets ! " 

Sam cast his eye on the man who was holding oat his 
hand, but he made no movement toward producing the 
ticket ; his mind was too securely nveted to the grand and 
beautiful to be thus easily diverted. "Ticket!" again 
suggested the conductor, sharply. Sam was fully aroused 
now, and surrendered his ticket without delay. "I am 
my grandfather's ghost," said Sam to himself, "if that 
man is a conductor." Such airs, such dress, such a dis- 
play of ornaments by a railroad conductor. ' ' Ah ! I have 
it," said Sam, "I am in California." Think, ye unfortu- 
nate of other climes, of a conductor wearing a fine, silk, 
plug hat ; a soft, black, frock coat ; a standing collar ; 
white vest; immaculate shirt front mounted with a dia- 



i 



CALIFOKNIA. Ill 

mond pin, and a heavy gold chain, to which is attached a 
golden spike an inch in length. He wore flesh-colored 
kids on his hands, on the outside of which, on the third 
finger of each hand he wore a large, heavy, gold ring, 
with moss agate setting. Thought Sam : " His wages can- 
not be less than a thousand dollars a month ; of course, 
telegraph operators are paid equally as munificently," and 
he felt as though he were a rich man already. 

Before the conductor got out of the car Sam heard him 
accosted, by a man who entered with, " Holloa, George! 
Big train to-day?" 

" You bet ! Tickets ! " and on he passed. 

"George!" thought Sam, "Great heavens! what a 
common name for such an uncommon man ; and what 
rude language for such a noble appearing specimen of cul- 
tivated taste and refinement." Once more "California," 
was whispered in his ears, and his amazement was at an 
end. Everybody and everything that Sam met that day 
seemed to be got up on the same grand scale of splen- 
dor and magnificence. Indeed, so gorgeous did all things 
appear to him that he would not have been surprised to 
have seen golden nuggets growing on the bushes, and 
double eagles flying about in the air. Before the train 
had reached Sacramento, Sam was made to understand 
that San Francisco is in fact California, and that a person 
is not really in California until San Francisco has been 
reached. Sam continued his journey to San Francisco. 
He landed on the wharf, and was immediately confronted 
by a "pioneer," (so the badge on his cap indicated) hol- 
lowing "Pioneer Hotel!" with a pioneer voice. "Get 
into the Pioneer hack, carry you to the Pioneer Hotel 
free of charge." Sam never invested in free institutions of 
that description. He wanted to view the city also, and 
therefore walked. Everything and everybody seemed to 
be "Pioneer." "Pioneer Hotel," "Pioneer Store," "Pio- 
neer Restaurant," "Pioneer Saloon," "Pioneer Cigar 
Stand," "Pioneer Barber Shop," "Pioneer Commission 



11 '2 SAM JOHNSON. 

House,'' "Pioneer Broker," "Pioneer Junk Shop," "Pio- 
neer Dray," "Pioneer Bootblack Stand," "Pioneer Bank," 
"Pioneer Mill," — in fact "Pioneer" was to be seen and 
met everywhere. Sam was impatient to see the Golden 
Gate and the Pacific Ocean. To do so he must ascend to 
the summit of Telegraph Hill. He would ascend a streak 
of lightning, if necessary and possible. To get to the top 
of Telegraph Hill was no "boy's play," as Sam was ready 
to testify before he had reached its topmost point. But 
he was amply repaid for his toil. There to his left lay the 
blue expanse of the ocean of oceans, the broad Pacific ; 
and nearer, almost beneath his feet, the Golden Gate, the 
narrow entrance to the Golden City, to the land of precious 
metals and — " Pioneers." 

It is not our purpose to record all Sam's thoughts, or 
follow him through all his sight- seeing excursions in Cali- 
fornia, but simply to keep trace of him until he has again 
taken up the pen and pencil, and settled down for another 
telegraphic siege. 

WHIMS. 

Inform a Californian that you are a late arrival in the 
State, and he will invariably exclaim: "Then you were 
not here when we had our great earthquake?" and 
look upon you with an expression of mingled pride 
and pity. Sam soon learned that Californian s are an 
excitement-loving people, and care not how it is produced, 
whether by freaks of nature or their own fearlessness and 
recklessness, they are equally well pleased, and never lose 
an opportunity to speak of it with enthusiasm and pride. 
Anything that is peculiarly Californian, to a greater extent 
than in any other locality is worshiped by them as their 
property. 

The San Francisco fog is as treacherous as Satan, and 
about as impenetrable as a snowbank. One may be walk- 
ing along in the sunshine, dodging his way through the 



POVERTY FLAT. 113 

rushing throng of excited people, perfectly innocent of im- 
pending danger, when suddenly a solid wall of salt water 
log strikes him in the back, almost prostrating him, and 
enshrouding him in a perfect spray of vapor, almost as 
dense as rain, and completely obscuring the sun. It was 
told Sam by a 4 ; forty-niner ' ' that a carpenter was one day 
covering a house during a fog, and kept putting on 
shingles away out into the fog without knowing that he 
had got away from the building. Yet these people idolize 
the fog as though it were their patron saint. 

POVERTY FLAT. 

Sam "explored" the city from cellar to garret, from 
the Cliff House to Butcher Town. He caught the California 
fever and " went in" to rule or ruin. He would either be 
a nabob or a "gutter snipe." He came nearly being the 
latter. His finances were fast failing him. The What Cheer 
House stared him in the face. That savored too much of 
Hollis' fare. He went to Sacramento, the headquarters of 
the Central Pacific Railroad Company, and applied for a 
situation as telegraph operator. It was Tuesday when he 
made the application. The superintendent said he wanted 
operators, but was engaged just then — to come in at four 
o'clock. Sam called at four o'clock, "sharp," and was 
informed that the superintendent had gone out over the 
road, but would probably be back that night. He was told 
to call at nine o'clock next day. Sam obeyed instructions, 
but the superintendent was not visible. Sam thought that 
probably they were trying to "shake him off." If they 
were, they did not know Sam Johnson, or they would not 
have attempted it. Thus the "dance" was kept up until 
Friday, no superintendent appearing. Friday, at four 
o'clock p. m., the train dispatcher said to Sam : "Come to 
the office at seven this evening and I'll 'fix' you." 

Sain was there promptly — the dispatcher was not. Sam 
began to think that he could run off the entire management 



/ 

/ 



114 SA3f JOHNSON. 

if his finances would only hold out. They had Jioled out 
already. The dispatcher appeared at eight o'clock — an 
hour late — and after disposing of his accumulated business, 
looked at Sam and said: "I want you to go to Poverty 
Flat," 

Sam got up from his chair, glanced at his own "make 
up," and then looked the dispatcher directly in the eye, to 
see whether he was in earnest, or only making a pun at his 
shabby appearance, Sam was in doubt, and so said: 
"You want me to go to Poverty Flat ? I am there already. 
I am 'fiat broke' — if that isn't poverty fiat, then I'm 'off 
my reckoning.' " 

The dispatcher laughed, and said : "I mean the town or 
station named Poverty Flat," and he pointed it out on the 
time card. 

Sam was furnished with the necessary instructions, and 
ordered to depart on the 6.30 a. m. train next day. 

He arrived at Poverty Flat at 6.42 a. m., Dec. 11th, 1869. 
He alighted from the cars right upon the flat, and sank into 
it almost to his boot tops. It was raining. Day had not 
fairly dawned. The train sped on. Sam looked about for 
the depot and telegraph office. Where were they ? Echo 
answered not a word. Sam espied several wires leading 
into a small shanty close to the track and almost beneath 
it. "That cannot be the office," he thought, "it must be 
the battery room." Just as Sam was about to knock, the 
door opened and a young man presented himself. 

"Can you tell me where the Poverty Flat telegraph office 
is?" said Sam. 

" This is it," replied the young man. 

Sam sat down on the end of a railroad tie and " took in " 
the situation. He could have taken in the office by a very 
slight enlargement of his head. "Newtown, Hollis, Pov- 
erty Flat — worse and worse," he thought, and was about 
to get up, shake the mud off his boots, and walk away in 
disgust, when, happening to run his hands down into his 



POVERTY FLAT. 115 

pockets, he realized at once his great need of funds, repented 
of his recently-formed resolution, made himself known to 
the young man before him, and entered the office. And 
such an office ! Talk about California grandeur. Here it 
was in a nutshell. Eight feet every way — up and down, 
to and fro, backward and forward. The telegraph instru- 
ment was on a small desk screwed to the wall, just beneath 
the only window in the building. The office contained a 
cot for the operator to sleep on, which could be turned to 
the wall when not in use. The stove almost blocked the 
entrance. A large clock that ticked as* loudly as the 
sounder, hung against the wall , one office chair, and you 
have Poverty Flat telegraph office complete as Sam found 
it, except the dirt and spider webs. They were every- 
where. Sam did not allow the office to remain in this con- 
dition long. He got it elevated so that it stood on a level 
with the platform, entirely reconstructed and renovated it 
on the inside, and made it as neat and comfortable as such 
a structure could be rendered. 

Give a man good food and plenty of it and he can be 
contented under the most adverse circumstances. That is 
what Sam got at Poverty Flat in a good, kind family. 

Poverty Flat was the junction of the Central Pacific Kail- 
road with the Safety Valve Railroad. That is what gave 
it its telegraphic importance. As a town Poverty Flat 
was a complete failure. It was certainly poor in that re- 
spect. The country around about was also very flat. Never 
was place more appropriately named. 

To the lover of nature the view from Poverty Flat is pic- 
turesque. Eastward, toward the rising sun, the snow- 
crowned summits of the Sierra Nevada mountains loom up 
bold and grand, gradually decreasing in height as they ap- 
proach to the south, until distance blends them with the 
lesser coast range. Directly south Motint Diablo rises dark 
and sullen. Passing around to the westward our eyes be- 
hold the broad valley of the Sacramento, whose muddy 



116 SAM JOHNSON. 

stream of the same name flows sullenly and slowly to the 
father of oceans. Five miles west, seemingly beneath our 
feet, so deceitful is distance in this treeless valley, sits the 
City of the Plains, sunny Sacramento, the capital of the 
State. 

Sam plied his profession in his prison ''-sell" one winter 
and summer. This class of buildings was a necessity when 
tbe road was being built. They could be taken apart in a 
half hour, put on a car, conveyed to the end of the track, 
and set up again as quickly as they had been taken down. 
The "boys" called them kennels. They were cold in win- 
ter and hot in summer. When the heat was very oppres- 
sive, even in the coolest buildings, the "boys'' on the line 
frequently called Sam and asked: "How does she boil in 
the kennel?" 

She didn't boil. Sam erected a second roof, a foot 
above the first, which kept out the heat and allowed a draft 
to pass underneath. 

In less than a year after Sam took charge of Poverty Flat 
office we find him installed in the neatest and most com- 
fortable office and depot on the road. And he takes pride 
in keeping it so. 

SUGARVILLE, POVERTY FLAT AND BEETLAND RAILROAD. 

Xear Poverty Flat, and on the line of what is known as 
the "levee track," a sugar factory was erected for the pur- 
pose of manufacturing sugar from beets During the gath- 
ering of these beets, which lasted from three to five months, 
a train was run from the beet fields to the factory. Sam 
had the supervision of this train so far as getting its orders 
and posting it in regard to trains on the roads over which 
it ran. In order that Ms road might not be behind the 
times, Sam got up a time-table, and rules and regulations 
for its government, in approved railroad style. As it con- 
tains much valuable railroad information of its kind, we 
here append a copy : 



SAM JOHNSON. 



117 



SUGrARVILLE, POVERTY FLAT AND BEET LAND 

RAILROAD. 

Time Table — No. 1. 

To take effect September 1st, 1872, at 7 o'clock A.M. 

For the government and information of Employes only. The Com- 
pany reserve the right to vary therefrom whenever it suits its 
convenience and pleasure. 

Read Rules carefully. All new. 



TOWARD BEETLAND. 




FROM BEETLAND. 


No. 5. 


No. 3. 


No. 1. 




No. 2. 


No. 4. 


No. 6. 


Passenger. 


Passenger. 


Passenger. 


STATIONS. 


Passenger. 


Passenger. 


Passenger. 


P.M.Leave. 


A.ALLeave 


A.M. Leave 




A.M. Arrive 


P.M.Arrive 


P.M.Arrive 


3.00 
3.15 


11.00 
11.15 


7.00 
7.15 


.... Sugarville .... 

% 
..Potter's Saloon.. 

...Poverty Flat.. . 

.Newbert's Saloon. 

Distillery 

.Perkin's Saloon.. 

T X. 
... . Junction 

X 

....Beet Land. ... 


10.00 
9.45 


2.00 
1.45 


6 00 
5.45 


3.20 


11.20 


7.20 


9.40 


1.40 


5.40 


3.30 


11.80 


7.30 


9.30 


1.30 


5.30 


3.40 


11.40 


7.40 


9.20 


1.20 


5.20 


3.45 


11.45 


7.45 


9.15 


1.15 


5.15 


3.50 


11.50 


7.50 


9.10 


1.10 


5.10 


4.00 


12.00 


8.00 


9.00 


1.00 


5.00 


Arrive. 


Arrive. 


Arrive. 




Leave. 

1 


Leave. 


Leave. 



All trains must come to a full stop at Poverty Flat, and conductors go to 
the Superintendent's office and inquire for orders. 

Conductors of connecting roads must supply themselves with time tables 
of the S., P. F. & B. L. R. R.. and govern themselves accordingly. 

The S , P. F. & B. L. R. R. trains have right to track over trains of all con- 
necting roads. 

Approach all saloon stations carefully, keeping sharp lookout for candi- 
date's signals. 

Employes will take notice that distilleries are prohibited by law from dis- 
posing of liquor by retail. Every train will be supplied with a five gallon 
demijohn. 



118 SAM JOHNSON". 

A quart measure held up at the distillery is a signal to stop, which must in 
all cases be obeyed. When the demijohn is full, it must be delivered to th? 
Superintendent, who will supply another. 

All trains daily and weekly, except Sunday. 

Employes are forbidden to drink oftener than once at each saloon station 
each trip, without permission from the Superintendent. 

Sam Johnson, Sup't. Sam Johnson, Gen. Sup't. 

Rules and Regulations Governing Employes op the S., P. F. and 

B. L. R. R. 

1. The general and division Superintendents' watch is the time by which 
trains are to be run. Conductors and engineers will compare their watches 
with it daily. One hour's variation therefrom will be considered sufficient 
cause for dismissal from the service. 

2. None but dead beets will be carried. No tickets are sold, and money 
will not be taken. Conductors shall not be tempted nor their honesty 
impugned. 

3. No person or persons employed on trains or at stations will leave his or 
their places without permission from the general and division superinten- 
dents — unless he or they can do so without being found out. 

4. All trains will be under control of the conductor, but the engineer need 
not obey his orders if he is otherwise disposed. 

5. Conductors, engineers, and brakemen will be at their trains before start- 
ing. Delays are dangerous. 

6. Conductors will not make any report of persons or stock injured or 
killed. Trains are run for the exclusive accomodation of dead beets. If the 
live ones cannot keep out of the way of trains, and keep their stock out of the 
way, this company will not be responsible for damages sustained. 

7. Trains bound toward Beet Land will have right to track against trains 
bound from Beet Land. 

8. Trains bound from Beet Land will have right to track against trains 
bound toward Beet Land. 

9. Trains moving in opposite directions must not attempt to pass each 
other on a single track. 

10. This road will be run by the Golden Rule, therefore no red or white 
signals will be allowed. "The night cometh when no man can work." 
Wherever the night overtakes you there remain until the morrow. One 
whistle of the engine is a signal to stop, two to start, and three to back up. 
A glass held up in the right hand at a saloon station, is a candidate's signal. 
When so signaled trains will come to a full stop, and all hands " take some- 
thing." 

11. In all cases of doubt be sure you are right, and act accordingly. 

12. Trains must not leave Sugarville until all trains due from Beet Land 
have arrived. 

13. Trains must not leave Beet Land until all trains due from Sugarville 
have anived. 

14. Whenever a train is delayed until it falls on the time of another moving 
in the same direction it will take that train's No. and time, and proceed 
accordingly. 

15. No deviation from these rules will be permitted. Train men are 
required to commit them to memory. 

16. No order must be obeyed except from the general and division superin- 
tendent. 



TRAIN MEN IN CALIFORNIA. 119 

Persons not familiar with the running of trains on the 
S., P. F. and B. L. P. P., may form the impression that 
rules seven and eight conflict, and so they do of themselves, 
but rules twelve and thirteen render rules seven and eight 
entirely consistent ; and, besides, a careful study of the 
time-table will explain that there is but one train on the 
road at the same hour ; in truth, there is but one trafti on 
the road at any time, though it assumes different numbers. 
The General and Division Superintendent of the S., P. 
F. and B. L. P. P., after many years railroad and tele- 
graph experience, has become convinced that the only way 
to avoid collisions is to run but one train. 

OBSERVATIONS. 

One, two, three, four and five years have passed, 
and still Sam is at Poverty Flat. He passes many what 
would otherwise be monotonous hours, putting his obser- 
vations in the form of words. He writes as he thinks and 
feels. He generally takes a comical and humorous view 
of things, nevertheless he seldom fails to s°e them in their 
true light. We will here produce two of his articles per- 
taining to railroaders. The first one is entitled : 

TRAIN MEN IN CALIFORNIA. 

Californians are a fast people for many reasons. The 
climate is conducive to it. The pursuits of the people 
also, and the ease with which fortunes are made and 
unmade. Their mind food is excitement — excitement pro- 
duced by venturing, risking, losing, gaining, gambling, 
shooting, drinking, eating, racing, swindling, rejoicing 
and grieving. They live fast and die fast. 

Train men, particularly conductors and brakemen, are 
subject to these influences ; and, in addition to the excite- 
ment attending their calling, they are continually passing 
to and fro, from place to place, meeting new faces, en- 
countering new and unforseen adventures every day ; 
some grave, some laughable ; and thus never burthened 



120 s,m johxsox. 

with monotony, they become fascinated with it, partake of 
its nature, which is that of venture, and risk, and haste. 

Second in the order of wide-spread evils in California — 
intemperance is the first — is gambling. Some of it is 
legalized, as stock gambling, racing, and lotteries. 
Almost every person in California, at one time or another, 
has had experience with the " tiger." Gambling in stocks 
is the mania of railroaders, and more of them lose their 
situations from that cause than from any other. Not 
because they buy and sell stocks, but in consequence of 
the acts which it leads them to commit. The desire to 
invest in a favorite stock at what he thinks a favorable 
time, causes the conductor to "knock down" more than 
he otherwise would, and more than is prudent. I say 
prudent, not because I think it proper that a conductor 
should "knock down," but because he is expected to do 
so, to a certain extent, and not quarreled with if he keeps 
within certain bounds, at least such is the general infer- 
ence. Take a passenger conductor, for instance. The com- 
pany pay him a salary of one hundred dollars a month. 
They know that he must have a seventy-five dollar suit 
of clothes every two months, that he must present an un- 
ruffled, immaculate shirt front every day, that he must 
smoke, if not drink, that he is away from home two-thirds 
of his time, that he pays forty dollars a month house rent, 
beside the keeping and clothing of his family in fine style. 
Now, they know that he cannot do this on his salary, 
then, of course, he must "knock down," and they know 
about how much, for they have their "spotters" on every 
train. Yet, so strong is the temptation among railroad 
men to " take chances," in one way or another, that they 
overstep their bounds, and are "let out," without being 
told the reason why. 

When a freight conductor on a salary of ninety dollars 
a month, in a short six months, exchanges a silver watch 
for a two hundred and fifty dollar gold one, with a fifty 
dollar chain attached, besides sporting jewelry to a lavish 



TRAIN MEN IN CALIFORNIA. 121 

extent, it does not take a Solomon to discover that there is 
a "screw loose" somewhere. It is proverbial that rail- 
roaders are the best "watched" men in the country, and 
yet they do not always run correctly. Few railroad men, 
except the high officials, ever accumulate much property. 
They are too liberal and too fond of living up to the 
"highest notch." As a general thing their salaries will 
not justify a very extensive banking business ; if they did, 
they would very quickly be cut down. 

A train man who has held a position for a number of 
years seldom follows anything else with satisfaction to 
himself. This calling begets in a man a kind of desire and 
appetite that no other occupation will gratify. If he loses 
a situation on one road he will wander to another, and 
another, as the Wandering Jew traveled from pole to 
pole, and from hemisphere to hemisphere. But I never 
knew a railroad conductor to forget his dignity and im- 
portance so far as to accept the position of street car con- 
ductor. No, sir, not he. That kind of traveling is too 
slow, too confining. There is not danger and excitement 
enough about it. Neither was a brakeman ever known to 
come down from his proud and dangerous stand on the 
top of a railroad car, to twist a street car break. He 
would go to the almshouse first. There is something 
really noble and grand about this sacrifice of position and 
emoluments for principle and honor. 

Train men are clannish and free-hearted. They will not 
permit one of their number to miss his regular meal for 
want of its equivalent — four bits — if they possess it. A 
brakeman will dress one of his fellow "twisters" out in 
his best and most stylish suit, if he wishes to attend a 
party, in order that he may not disgrace the craft. He 
will do this, and be happy, though he may have grave 
doubts of getting it back in presentable shape again. 

Train men never spare the dollars when a comrade needs 
assistance. They extend their generosity to the wife 'and 
children of those of their calling who have been accident- 



122 SAM JOHXSON. 

ally killed in the service. When conductor Finch was 
killed at Stockton, the train men, agents, and operators on 
the division contributed five hundred dollars for the bene- 
fit of the afflicted widow. And these cases are not isolated. 

The running and handling of trains has been statistically 
demonstrated to be the most dangerous occupation in the 
world ; yet this very feature seems to give it a charm and 
fascination for the venturesome. Train men, as a class, 
have their distinctive virtues and their faults, but taking 
into consideration all their surroundings, we ask the ques- 
tion, and shall allow the reader to form his own answer : 

"Could men do differently % " 

PwAILKOADERS RELIGIOUSLY. 

Unrighteousness is imputed unto all railroad men. I 
was forcibly reminded of this fact by a young minister who 
officiated at the school-house in this village, not long since. 
So forcibly, indeed, that I regretted very much that I could 
not applaud him as he deserved. He was portraying the 
humbleness of the followers of Jesus. Matthew, he said, 
was the only one who held an official position, and he was 
a tax-gatherer, spurned of all the people. He described 
the manner of collecting taxes in Matthew's day, showing 
wherein a tax-gatherer could, and was supposed to u knock 
down," — to use a railroad term — the minister said steal. 
But, he said, because persons who were tax-gatherers were 
supposed to, and generally did, appropriate that which did 
not rightfully belong to them, is not proof that Matthew 
did, any more than the assertion that there is not one strict- 
ly honest railroad man proves such to be the case. All 
eyes immediately fell upon me, for I was the only railroad- 
er in the house. I impute this thrust of the minister to his 
youth and short service in his Master' s calling, and also to 
its being spoken in the midst of a political canvass, when 
railroad and anti-railroad were issues. 

Poverty Flat was opposed to railroads for the same rea- 
son that the old lady discountenanced fanning mills. She 



RAILROADERS RELIGIOUSLY. 123 

said the Lord made the wind to clean the chaff out of the 
grain. The Lord made horses to carry people about, and 
man had no right to build railroads and engines to defeat 
His purposes. 

I admit that railroad people do not attend gospel service 
as frequently as some others. Why not? Is there not 
some plausible reason for their doing as they do \ All of 
them believe in a future state — in Heaven. Is it rational 
to suppose that they would knowingly and intentionally do 
that which would shut them out of Heaven % I ask, who 
are these people that by professing certain doctrines are 
made better than those who do not % I answer, those who 
find it the most convenient to profess them. The history of 
man from his origin, or as far back as we have any record 
of him, to the present day, establishes the truth that the 
most devout worshipers of any faith are the poor and dis- 
consolate. In direct proportion as man is denied the com- 
forts and luxuries of this world does he look to the future 
for consolation and happiness. Even the Jews, the chosen 
people of Grod, whenever they became prosperous, turned 
away from "the straight and narrow path," and excelled 
the heathens round about in wickedness. Take the active, 
live men, men of business and genius at the present time — 
those persons who keep pace with the age, who move the 
world in fact, and we find that they do not bow down to 
creeds and isms. Are they any less perfect than those who 
do? These same religious people would follow the same 
course did circumstances permit. Men do not make them- 
selves. Inherent qualities, education and circumstances do. 
The railroader s life is all action and excitement. His time 
is not his own. He has no thought for the morrow. If he 
takes care of to-day he is fortunate. He has plenty to eat, 
drink, and wear. What need he care for more % His ani- 
mal wants are all supplied; his spiritual necessities, if suck 
there be, are only imaginary, not visible, not material ; 
therefore why concern himself about that of which he 
knows nothing \ He does not. Put yourself in their place 
before you condemn them. 



124 SAM JOHNSON. 

HER FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE " STRING," AND SOME IN- 
CIDENTS THAT FOLLOW IN HER TRAIN." 

The ladies were slow claiming their rights, telegraphic- 
ally, in California, though it was an open field. California 
girls born prior to the present time, will never learn tele- 
graphy. They are too sprightly, too restless, too wild, and 
aspire to loftier places. Every young girl in California con- 
fidently expects to be a millionaire' s wife. Until she is dis- 
abused of this fanciful idea, she will not think of earning a 
living with her own hands. She is generally too well ad- 
vanced in years before this can be done to undertake to 
master telegraphy, and so she accepts the first presentable 
man, and — there is one millionairess less. 

Elk Town was the first station on the Central Pacific Kail- 
road to welcome a lady operator. She had acquired a 
knowledge of the art telegraphic in a little village away to 
the east, on the banks of the Father of Waters. In obedi- 
ence to the command of the prophetic Greeley, she came 
west, and that is how she came within the scope of Sam 
Johnson 5 s observations. Their introduction was somewhat 
singular. Sam knew that the regular operator at Elk Town 
had gone away for a few days, but he did not dream of a 
lady taking the place. The operator at Mud Springs, an 
inland otiice, wanted to get a substitute, and had asked 
Sam to look out for one for him. Now, it is quite common 
for one operator to tell another who sends feebly, that he 
had better go to the " Springs." Sam asked the lady at 
Elk Town, (supposing the operator to be a man,) if he 
would like to go to Mud Springs when the regular operator 
returned. "Oh, no ! " she said, "I think I will be able to 
get along here." As soon as Sam learned the true state of 
affairs, he explained matters satisfactorily. 

Train men, generally, are prepossessing, dressy, and 
ladies' men. The lady operator proved to be, as all opera- 
tors of the opposite sex are, intelligent, refined, pleasant, 
talkative, and good-looking. What more or better induce- 
ments would a freight train conductor, who is a man and 



HER FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE "STRING," ETC. 125 

a gentleman, want to cause him to get his train to Elk 
Town ahead of time, and keep it there as long as he 
dared? None. Jack Franks and Jim Kutting were the 
two most attentive. Jim was a married man, and knew 
the advantages of good company, and so, when he could 
spend a few minutes or hours in the company of the fair 
telegrapher, he never failed to do so. One evening Jim 
went to Elk Town on train No. 6, intending to return on 
train No. 7, which would allow him to remain one hour at 
Elk Town. Jack Franks happened to be cond actor of No. 
7. Hearing from the conductor of No. 6 that Kutting was 
at Elk Town, and intending to return with him, he held 
his train back until it was past due at Elk Town, and then 
went flying by the station. Kutting did not get aboard. 
He had to wait until ten o'clock for No. 3. 

Jack served himself a worse, or, rather, a better joke 
than this. One Sunday he went to Elk Town on No. 2, at 
eleven A. m., intending to return on No. 3. He hired 
a "rig," took the lady out riding, and passed the day 
pleasantly. The lady had a piano in her office, and 
the evening was passed very agreeably, she playing accom- 
paniments to Jack's singing. Jack was a splendid (ft) 
vocalist. His favorite song was "All Aboard ! " 

As the time approached for No. 3 to be due at Elk 
Town, Jack looked at his gold chronometer, and said : 
" She'll soon be here." 

The lady opened her large, rolling eyes widely, and 
exclaimed: "Why! how you astonish me. Who's 
coming?" 

Jack laughed, and said he meant train No. 3. 

"No 3" repeated the fair operator, slowly, staring 
at Jack as if she thought he might be crazy. "Why, 
don't you know that No. 3 don't run Sundays? " 

Jack staggered back, and fell over the stove upon the 
cat, which was so badly frightened that she gave one 
piercing scream, and leaped through the ticket window, 
taking most of the glass with her. Happily there was 



126 SAM JOHNSON. 

no fire in the stove, otherwise Jack would have fared 
badly. The stove was near the wall, and when Jack fell 
the weightiest portion of his body went down first, and 
he was wedged in between the stove and the wall, head 
and heels up, almost as tightly as if he had been driven 
there by a pile driver. The lady had to call for assistance 
to help move the stove before Jack could be released from 
his unpleasant predicament. 

After order was restored, the lady was disposed to 
laugh, and did laugh until she got the hiccoughs, and 
almost strangled. But Jack was sober and meditative. 
He looked as though he had suddenly lost every one of 
his near relatives, and not one of them had left him a 
penny to remember them by. The fair operator recovered 
from her fit of laughter, noticed Jack's troubled counte- 
nance, and said : " Mr. Franks, are you hurt, do you feel 
sick?" 

"Ain I hurt! do I feel sick?" repeated Jack, with 
emphasis. " Why, my dear lady, don't you understand 
what troubles me. I've got to be in Sacramento at four 
o'clock to-morrow morning to bring out train No. 8. How 
am I to get there but to ' foot it.' Jack Franks walk fif- 
teen miles in five hours ! I should think I was doing well 
to make the trip in five days," and he sat down in a low, 
cane-bottomed chair so thoughtlessly and forcibly that he 
came nearly not getting out of it again. 

"Well, it is really too bad," said Miss Operator, con- 
solingly, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye 
that plainly showed her true feelings to be : " I don' t 
care, its one of the best jokes ever perpetrated, and I know 
I shall laugh myself sick when he gets away." 

Jack was one of the promptest railroad men on the pay- 
roll, and would have traveled the fifteen miles on his hands 
and knees that he might be at Sacramento ready to start 
with his train on time. He left Elk Town at exactly 
eleven o'clock p. m. He passed Poverty Flat, ten miles 
from Elk Town, at 2.10 a. m. At Poverty Flat there is a 



AN EXPLANATION. 127 

train register, where each conductor must invariably 
record his arrival and departure, and affix his signature. 
So faithful was Jack to obey all the rules of the company, 
that, from force of habit he stopped at Poverty Flat, and 
registered as passing at 2.10 A. M. That is how Sam dis- 
covered the joke. 

Jack reached Sacramento at 3:30 a. m., nearly exhausted, 
and as thoroughly disgusted with himself as a man could 
possibly be. If one wishes to touch Jack in a tender spot 
let him just ask him how many railroad ties there are 
between Elk Town and Sacramento. 

AN EXPLANATION. 

Almost all professions and vocations have their distinc- 
tive features, originating within themselves, or adopted 
for some particular purpose. These after awhile become 
customs, and are impressed upon their respective followers 
so habitually that they become "part and parcel" of their 
natures, and by these their caste can be easily recognized. 
They show themselves either in looks, actions, or dress. 
The stranger, traveler, and casual observer must form their 
ideas principally from appearance. 

It is a well-known fact that the leading officers of rail- 
road companies, from presidents down to division superin- 
tendents, are careless of their appearance. On the other 
hand, the working bees, the sinew and muscle of the com- 
pany, dress according to fashion. One day one of the 
officers of the company asked Sam to explain why all his 
employes wore better clotues than he did. 

Sam answered by saying that that question had puzzled 
him considerably, but he had solved it to his satisfaction. 
The world worships appearance more than reality, there- 
fore we, the employes of the company, are desirous that 
the company shall appear to the best advantage, as typi- 
fied by its managers. But we see that the managers 
neglect this important consideration either from taste, from 
being too busily engaged otherwise, or because their sal- 



128 SAM JOHNSON. 

aries will not permit them to do it ; therefore, rather than 
allow our company to fall into disrepute in this respect, 
we rally to its aid, and give it a standing among the best, 
one that we are not ashamed of. 
This explanation was perfectly satisfactory. 

PHANTOM RAILROADERS. 

Eveiything pertaining to railroading must be systemati- 
cal, practical, lucid. No vague ideas, no dreamings, no 
uncertainties. Abe White was an engineer, and a good 
one ; but he had one failing, and a serious one it proved. 
He put too much confidence in departed spirits. He was 
continually holding communication with them when on 
duty, allowing them to ride on the engine (which was in 
violation of rule forty-nine), and listening to their advice. 
His train had orders one night not to leave Altamont until 
No. 12 had arrived from Midway. Altamont is at the 
summit of the coast range. From Altamont toward Mid- 
way the grade descends very rapidly, and it is almost 
impossible to stop a train after it gets under headway. 
Now, Abe White understood his order, but his spiritual 
friends knew nothing about it, or if they did they disre- 
garded it altogether. These phantom railroaders told Abe 
that No. 12 was on the siding at Midway waiting for him, 
and even opened his eyes so that he could see for him- 
self though it was night, and he must have looked 
over, around, or through several hills. No matter, Abe 
believed the invisible mischief-makers, started his train 
down the grade, and had it not been that every brakeman 
was at his post, and immediately plied the breaks, there 
would have been one of the worst " smash ups" on record. 
As it was, the two trains came within a few feet of col- 
liding. Spirits are not reliable as railroaders. They are 
"too thin." 

TRAMPS. 

Tramps are a source of great annoyance to train men. 
They become so dextrous at stealing rides and getting on 



TRAMPS. 129 

and off trains, that it is almost impossible to thwart them, 
especially on a long train. On , a passenger train they 
usually select the platform of the car next to the engine. 
If " fired off" from this, they will run toward the rear end 
of the train and jump on. If put off at the rear end 
they will run ahead to get aboard, and, unless every car is 
guarded, will succeed. Whenever possible they will get 
upon the top of a passenger car and lie down by the ven- 
tilators as "flat as a shingle." It is becoming very com- 
mon for them to lie down on the cross-beam of the breaks 
between the wheels, and within six inches of the track. 
It is a very cramped and dangerous position, but they 
cling to it with death-like tenacity. It is more difficult to 
hinder them from riding on long freight trains than on 
passenger trains. Freight train No. 8 started out of Sac- 
ramento one morning for San Francisco with one of these 
irrepressible "deadhead" travelers "stowed away" on a 
brake beam. He was routed out at Poverty Flat, but got 
aboard again. He was put off at every station at which 
the train stopped, and often raced up and down its whole 
length, but he always succeeded in eluding the train men 
and in getting on. He boldly asserted that he was going 
through to San Francisco on that train, and they could not 
prevent him. At Midway, half way to San Francisco, the 
conductor told the tramp that if he was determined to go, 
to get into the caboose. He did, and was immediately 
seized by the conductor, who, with the assistance of the 
brakeman, securely bound him to a telegraph pole near 
the depot, and then "pulled out" with the train and left 
him a martyr at the stake. 

Persons who endeavor to steal a passage on trains are 
almost invariably hoodlums, or those who would not work 
if offered the most lucrative employment. These char- 
acters meander from city to city, getting their living at 
free lunch saloons, and when that fails they beg, boldly, 
and in many cases impudently, and steal too, with very 
little compunction of conscience. 

The public are quick to discover and cry out against any 



130 SAM JOHNSON. 

infringement of their rights by railroad companies, be such 
grievances real or imaginary. Should the people not be 
willing to "do as they wish to be done by?" The law 
ought to be such that whenever a person 'undertakes to 
steal a ride on a train, such person becomes liable to the 
same punishment that would have been inflicted had he 
stolen the money necessary to pay his passage as far as he 
had ridden when discovered. Such a law would work 
hardship to no one disposed to be honest and willing to 
work ; on the contrary, it would compel a set of scoundrels 
and loafers to go to work or starve. 

STRANGE BUT TRUE. 

Country people, who have been benefited by railroads 
more than any others, by the increase in the value of their 
lands, and by the bringing of markets for their produce to 
their very doors, are the most unreasonable people 
with whom railroad companies have to deal. They will 
demand crossings at every field, and if any of their stock 
are killed through their own negligence, or seemingly in- 
tentional carelessness, they will put in a bill of damages 
much in excess of their loss. The same is the case if the}' 
have a few acres of grain or hay or dry stubble burnt by 
fire kindled by sparks from an engine. But how is it if 
they cause the company to be damaged, and also occasion 
loss of limb or life to one or more persons ? Here is an 
instance : 

Freight train No. 10 left Stockton at 2.13 a. m. on time, 
and was running at regular time card speed, when about 
four miles west of Stockton, and near a long trestle-work, 
the head light shone on four horses feeding near the track. 
The moment the light Hashed upon the horses they sprang 
into the center of the track, and started ahead of the train 
at their utmost speed, and ran into the trestle-work. The 
engineer called for brakes, and reversed his engine, but it 
was useless. In a moment the engine struck the strug- 
gling houses, cutting one of them "half and half," but 



THE ONLY ONE. ■ 131 

another got under the wheels, threw the engine from the 
track, the cars in the train following it. The engineer 
leaped out, falling on the hard ground below, badly 
spraining his back, and otherwise maiming himself. The 
fireman was not so fortunate. The engine went over on 
his side of the track, and he dared not jump. He must 
take his chance where he was. The engine fell on its side, 
and car after car fell upon it, completely burying it, and 
so crushing and disfiguring the fireman that he could 
hardly be recognized as a human being when rescued. 

How did the horses get out of the field onto the track ? 
Examination revealed the bars down at the ranche's cross- 
ing. Not broken down, but laid down carefully. At day- 
break the rancher came directly from his barn, with his 
bridle on his arm, to these bars, looking for his horses. 
The feed was much better along the railroad than in the 
field. The inference is that the rancher left the bars down 
purposely when he passed through the evening before, 
and, knowing where to look for his horses, came directly 
to the track after them. Did that rancher think he was a 
murderer % Of course not. It is no crime to kill a rail- 
roader. Did he re-imburse the company for the loss he 
had caused them ? Did Jonah swallow the whale % Did 
ke claim damages for his horses that were killed ? If he 
did not the millennium is certainly near at hand. 

" If self the wavering balance shakes, 
It's rarely right adjusted." 

THE ONLY ONE. 

The Safety Valve Railroad was the first in California, 
and, if the Scripture be fulfilled, and it keeps up its pres- 
ent good behavior, it will be the last. In the eight years 
that Sam Johnson has been at Poverty Flat it has had but 
one accident. Such an isolated instance, and one, too, that 
was so frightful and yet so harmless in its results, is wor- 
thy of record. 

The Safety Valve Railroad in its early history transacted 



132 sam joiixson. 

a tremendous business, but the exhaustion of the placer 
mines and the completion of the Central Pacific Railroad 
turned the tide of travel and freight into other channels, 
so that the ten and twelve heavy trains that once ran over 
the road daily are now reduced to four. The through 
train consists of but one baggage and one passenger car. 
At Folsom the road begins to ascend the foot-hills of the 
Sierra Nevada mountains, winding around hills, through 
canons, and on and up into the mountains. At Vfillow 
Bend — which is nothing more than a side track— trains do 
not stop unless signaled. The road makes a sharp curve 
here, and as the outside rails on a curve are much the 
higher, on rounding these places the car naturally tips to 
the inside of the curve. The curve at Willow Bend was 
noticeably one-sided, in fact dangerously so. But such is 
the love of Californians for adventure that the uncertainty 
of passing over this particular curve in safety only lent a 
charm to it. 

In several places on the Safety Valve Railroad above 
Folsom good views of the Sacramento valley and the State 
capital can be had from the cars. For a short distance 
above, at, and below Willow Bend an excellent view can 
be obtained on a clear day. It had been raining very hard 
for several days previous to the day on which the accident 
occurred of which we are about to speak. The ground 
was very soft, the creeks, sloughs and ponds were all full 
and the track liable to give way. But on this particular 
day the sun shone warmly, the air was balmy and refresh- 
ing, and the landscape in every direction sparkling with 
dew-drops of delight. The passenger car was barely half 
filled, and every one was on the lookout to catch a view of 
the broad, green valley of the Sacramento, and the noble 
dome that crowns one of the finest public structures in the 
Union. The passengers had all taken seats on the side of 
the car that would favor them with this charming sight. 

Henry Jones was conductor of the train. Henry was one 
of the most agreeable men in the railroad service. He was 



THE ONLY ONE. 133 

dignified, nevertheless he was courteous to all, and made 
everybody his friend, particularly the ladies. Henry was 
not a great talker, but a jovial one. When he spoke he 
invariably "said something." He was a great admirer of 
beauty in fair fields, and also in fair women. On this occa- 
sion he had seated himself beside a lady whose raven black 
hair hung in long wavy curls down over her shoulders. 
Her alabaster forehead and cheeks glowed with animation, 
and her white, evenly set teeth shone fair as pearls as she 
made merry over the witticisms of conductor Jones. 
"Look! look!" exclaimed the conductor, pointing out of 
the car window to the westward. "Ah ! what a sight, what 
a flood of rapturous beauty flashes before the eyes, a pic- 
ture fit for the gaze of the gods ! " 

"Look a little to the northward," again spoke the con- 
ductor to the fair entranced, "and you will see the white 
dome of the capitol rising like a statue of virgin purity out 
of the green-carpeted valley." 

"Perfectly magnificent and" — and she flew out of the 
window and lit down in the water and soft mud fifty feet 
distant, with a thud and a force that caused her to sink to 
her waist. The conductor followed not a second behind, 
and was about to light in exactly the same spot already 
monopolized by his lady friend. Had he done so, the col- 
lision would doubtless have been fatal to her, for conductor 
Jones is a "heavy weight." But with that rare presence 
of mind peculiar to railroaders, and with a quickness of 
thought and action never surpassed, he managed to pass 
over her head and light in a pond beyond her. As he 
passed the lady, he threw his right hand behind him and 
Ms fingers caught in her raven locks and clung to them, 
and for a moment he thought he had jerked her head off. 
The pond in which the conductor lit was only arm-pit deep, 
but it was miry, and when he pulled one foot out the other 
sank deeper in the mire. But after much struggling and 
perspiring he got upon firmer ground. His first thought 
was of the lady. He still held her wavy curls in his hand. 



134 SAM JOHNSON. 

They were not so wavy as they had been a few moments 
before. He confronted the lady struggling to extricate 
herself from her unpleasant situation. O, ye gcds ! what a 
transformation was here ! A few straggling gray locks were 
all that remained of that once magnificent head of hair, and 
that face which but a moment ago had been as fair as the 
bust of Venus, was now wrinkled and blotched ; and those 
teeth, where are they % Extracted, sure as fate. He dropped 
the heretofore priceless ringlets, and turned away without 
lending the floundering lady his assistance. This was the 
in ost heartless act conductor Jones was ever known to do. 
What was the fate of the other passengers ? Singular to 
relate, not one had suffered a broken limb. Some had 
received slight scratches from the broken glass, and a few 
had got bruises from falling on rocks, but none were seri- 
ously injured. The brakeman, who was standing in the 
side door of the baggage car when the car went over, was 
shot up in the air with lightning velocity, and came down 
into the top of a large, live-oak tree which was standing 
near the track. He was more frightened than hurt, and 
could hardly be persuaded to come down. He thought 
an earthquake had caused the disaster, and proposed 
to keep above the earth until all danger had passed. The 
most seriously injured were the engineer and fireman. 
Both jumped as the engine went over, and, after turning 
a somersault, lit on their feet on pretty solid ground. The 
engineer, who weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, fell 
across the fireman's chest. The wood that was in the ten- 
der came flying at them and around them, as though a lot 
of infuriated demons were pelting them with it. They 
were unable to free themselves until the more fortunate in 
the wreck came to their assistance. The engineer was 
bleeding pretty freely from several cuts inflicted by the 
wood, but bad not received any serious or fatal wounds. 
The fireman was almost lifeless, and considerable trouble 
was experienced in bringing him to consciousness again. 
As soon as he could speak he said he thought one of the 



STEALING TIME. 135 

Calaveras big trees had fallen on him. That was the last 
he remembered. 

Another train was dispatched to the scene of the acci- 
dent as quickly as possible, and after a few short hours 
delay, the passengers and train men once more started for 
Sacramento. 

A cloud had fallen over conductor Jones. He was 
as staid and thoughtful as a deacon. When he arrived at 
Poverty Flat, Sam noticed at once that there was something 
weighing heavily on his mind. Calling Sam to one side, 
he said, very earnestly and impressively: "Sam, I'm as 
good a friend as you've got." 

"Of course you are. Who ever doubted that?" ex- 
claimed Sam. 

"Well, nobody," he said, "but I want to give you 
a word of advice, as a particular friend : Never get 
Married! " and he turned about, and singing out: "All 
Aboard ! " sprang on his train and was gone. 

STEALING TIME. 

"Procrastination is the thief of time," is a saying as old 
as time itself ; and it is as true as it is old. Previous 
to the building of railroads, "procrastination" had monop- 
olized the whole time stealing business. But since " neces- 
sity," that most prolific of mothers, brought into the world 
the "railroad conductor," Procrastination has had to 
"trail his flag in the dust." No matter about the great 
age of "Procrastination," and thaf other time-worn say- 
ing that "practice makes perfect," his laurels have been 
snatched from him by his young and irrepressible com- 
petitor, the "rail oad conductor." If telegraph oper- 
ators placed no check upon conductors, they would steal 
time enough in the first six months of the year to bring 
their Fourths of July on Christmas. For persistent, auda- 
cious time stealing commend me to the railroad conductor. 
However, if there be virtue in thieving of any description, 
it is stealing time on a railroad. To illustrate : 



136 SAM J0HNS0X. 

Freight trains are not allowed by mle to run faster than 
fifteen miles an hour — one mile in four minutes. Freight 
train No. 6' s schedule time to leave Sacramento is eleven 
o'clock a. M.j and to meet passenger train No. 1 at Gait 
one-thirty p. m. No. 6 is detained, and does not leave 
Sacramento until eleven fifty -five, but reports to the super- 
intendent as leaving at eleven-forty, stealing fifteen minutes 
at the start. It arrives at Poverty Flat at twelve-fif- 
teen, but reports leaving there at twelve o'clock, steal- 
ing another fifteen minutes. It runs to Elk Grove, ten 
miles, at the speed of one mile in three minutes, arriv- 
ing there at twelve forty-five, but reports leaving at twelve 
forty, stealing five minutes. It runs from Elk Grove 
to Gait, eleven miles, in thirty -five minutes, arriving 
at Gait at one-twenty, clearing the track for the passenger 
train, ten minutes before it is due, according to rule. The 
reports to the superintendent from each telegraph station 
in its route, show the train to have run at the rate of 
exactly one mile in four minutes, though its actual speed 
was one mile in three minutes and a quarter, and the total 
time stolen, forty-five minutes. At this rate of time steal- 
ing how long would it take a conductor to make a trip to 
the moon, provided, of course, that there was an "all rail 
route" to that unexplored kingdom ? Had the conductor 
not stolen this time he could not have run to Gait to meet 
train No. 1, would have failed to make other meeting 
points, have delayed other trains, and probably been four 
or five hours late reaching the end of his division. Steal- 
ing time is not legally a crime. That is why " Procrasti- 
nation" has been allowed to carry it on so extensively. 
Neither is it a crime in the eyes of railroaders so long as 
no accidents arise from it, and the officials of the road do 
not find it out. A conductor who would not steal time 
would have time stolen from him, and would almost al- 
ways be behind his c^rd time, which would eventually re- 
sult in his dismissal from the company's service. 



137 



FLAGGING THE MOON. 



George Young — poor fellow, lie is dead now — performed 
an exploit in railroading never attempted before or since, 
and which made him the butt of all his fellows ever after. 
George was impulsive, nervous, always acting upon the 
"spur of the moment." He was conductor of a freight 
train on the Visalia division of the Central Pacific railroad. 
Cabooses on the C. P. road and branches have elevated 
seats in them to enable conductors to look over their trains 
to the engine, and thus be assured that their trains have 
not broken in two. The train of which George Young was 
conductor had been running along nicely for some time, 
when, suddenly, purely from habit, George sprang up, 
mounted his elevated chair, cast a glance toward the for- 
ward end of the train, then as quickly leaped to the floor 
again, shouting: "Stop her! Put on the brakes, quick, 
for God's sake. There's a train ahead, coming toward 
us— I saw the head light," and he grabbed his lantern, 
rushed out of the caboose, and up on the top of the train, 
and hurried to the engine, making signals with his lantern, 
to the engineer to stop. 

By the time George had reached the engine the train had 
been brought almost to a stand. 

"What is the trouble?" said the engineer, addressing 
George, thinking, from his nervous actions and frightened 
looks, that probably a brakeman had fallen from the top 
of a car on the track, and been run over and killed. 

"Don't you see that train coming yonder?" said 
George, pointing to what he supposed to be the head- 
light of an engine, shining directly in the center of the 
track ahead of them. 

"O ! is that all?" answered the engineer, coolly. 

"All ! man, what more do you want? I wouldn't give 
a farthing for your life now. She'll be into us in a 
few minutes. I'll run ahead and flag her," and without 
waiting for a reply, he jumped down from the engine to 



188 SAM J0IIXS02T. 

the ground, and ran ahead to flag what he supposed to be 
an approaching train. 

The engineer and fireman saw George's mistake at 
once, and laughed heartily at his ridiculous blunder, 
but decided to allow him to discover the error himself. 

George walked ahead of his own train, in the center 
of the track, keeping a sharp lookout for the supposed 
train ahead. In this way he proceeded for over a mile, 
getting no nearer the imaginary train. Wearying of walk- 
ing, George climbed into the engine, saying: "Boys, I 
think she's backing out of our way." 

At this moment the track curved to the right, and the 
engineer said: "George, where are your dreaded head- 
light and train now % " 

George was appalled, and stood as mute as a statue for 
a minute, and then said: "Boys, don't 'give me away,' 
about this, and I'll present every One of you with a new 
hat, pay day." 

But it was too good to keep, and poor George never 
heard the last of "Flagging the Moon," while he was on 
the road. 



An incident occurred at Poverty Flat one day that is 
almost too incredible to be believed, yet it is as true as 
truth itself. 

Sheep raising is carried on very extensively in California. 
Immediately after shearing in the spring the sheep are 
driven high up into the mountains where there is good pas- 
ture, and kept there until approaching winter drives them 
down into the valleys again. One or two men have charge 
of a band of sheep and live all alone with them, not seeing 
half a dozen persons in as many months. One day one of 
these sheep -herders came directly down from the mountains 
to Poverty Flat, to take the cars for San Jose. He looked 
wild, and was wild. He had not shaved his face nor cut or 
combed his hair for six months, and his whole "make up" 



TELEGRAPH LINE REPAIRING. 139 

harmonized with his head. The train that he was to take 
passage in came and went. Shortly after it had departed 
Sam had occasion to step out of the office, and seeing the 
herder standing gazing intently at the fast disappearing 
train, said to him, "Why, I thought yon were going on 
that train." 

The herder looked at Sam curiously, then cast another 
look at the train, and exclaimed : " My God! I forgot to 
get on." 

TELEGRAPH LINE REPAIRING. 

Telegraph line repairing is one of the most important 
branches of the telegraphic service. The amount of busi- 
ness that can be transmitted over a wire depends upon its 
insulation. Upon the line repairer devolves the duty of 
keeping the line properly insulated and free from breaks, 
crosses, and other impediments to a " strong circuit." 

The line repairer must be a man who is impervious to the 
weather — rain or snow, heat or cold. Storms and floods, 
and snow-slides and land-slides are his particular benefac- 
tors. They pull down that he may build up. They con- 
fuse the wires that he may unravel them. He must under- 
take this at once. He cannot wait until the storm subsides. 
He must go out into the drenching, pelting rain, the blind- 
ing snow and the pinching cold. 

Andrew McFinn was one of the oldest and best telegraph 
line repairers in California. He had seen a great deal of 
varied and hard service. He was one of the pioneers who 
stretched the first line across the western plains, over the 
Rocky Mountains, through deserts, over the "bold Sierras," 
and down into the valley of the Sacramento, and on to the 
Golden City of the Pacific. He joined the telegraphic ex- 
pedition to Alaska and Behring's Strait. Getting separated 
from their supply ship, they were obliged to travel inland 
by dog sledges to procure food. And such food — dried 
seal and seal oil! Andrew McFinn had experienced all 
these privations and more, and yet he was in the prime of 



140 SAM JOHNSON. 

life. But California had in reserve for him an adventure 
that surpassed all his previous ones, at least in its propi- 
tious outcome. 

In many places in the mountains in California the tele- 
graph line is stretched from tree to tree, and across deep, 
narrow canons and gulches. In the mountain wilds of 
Calaveras County, where the bear and the California lion 
roam at will, and the sound of human footsteps is seldom 
heard, is a narrow ravine which bears the name of Mus- 
quito Gulch. Its rocky and almost perpendicular sides 
reach upward until they seem to touch the sky, and nearly 
shut out the light of day from the narrow stream of clear, 
cold water that rushes along at the bottom. Musquito 
Gulch is several miles in length. In building a telegraph 
line in this mountainous country, it was found expedient 
to cross Musquito Gulch near its center. This was a most 
difficult undertaking, as Andrew McFinn can truthfully 
testify. Having attached the wire securely to the limb of 
a tree on one side of the gulch, he trailed it along the sum- 
mit for half a mile before he could find a place where he 
dared attempt to descend to the bottom. Once at the bot- 
tom his trouble bad but fairly begun. To reach its sum- 
mit on the opposite side from which he started, from the 
base of the gulch, was a difficult and exceedingly dangerous 
undertaking. Sometimes a rock gave way from under his 
feet and he started to descend, but saved himself from de- 
struction by grabbing a bush or root. Sometimes loosened 
rocks and dirt tumbled down upon him from overhead, and 
cut and bruised and almost blinded him, while it kept him, 
as it were, suspended above the grave. All this time he 
retained possession of the wire, which was a heavy weight 
to carry, and often very nearly severed his hold on the 
* ; ragged edge" of life, to which he clung tenaciously. He 
finally reached the top u more dead than alive," and after 
a "breathing spell," carried the wire back along the uneven 
summit to a place opposite the tree to which he had at- 
tached it> ascended a tree and fastened the wire to a limb 
that extended out over the gulch. 



TELEGRAPH LIKE REPAIRING. 141 

One of the most prolific sources of income to telegraph 
companies in California arises from the stock gambling 
mania. Mining stock telegrams are given the preference 
over all other commercial business. Sometimes a single 
message is burdened with the weight of a million dollars. 
Fortunes are made and lost so quickly in speculations in 
mining stocks that the millionaire of to-day may be the 
beggar of to-morrow, and vice versa. But it is safe to say 
that ninety-nine lose where one gains. Stock gamblers — 
those who control the markets — area shrewd, unscrupu- 
lous, mj^stery-plotting, excitable, speculating class. They 
will "move heaven and earth" to "bull" or "bear" the 
market, and engage in every imaginable species of manip- 
ulation which is not downright, open dishonesty, to deceive 
the public and forward their own schemes. One of the 
wealthiest men in California at the present day was once a 
telegraph operator, and made his " strike" by the shrewd 
use of his telegraphic knowledge. 

There was a mining case being tried in Virginia City, 
Nevada, wherein the title to a mine valued at fifty million 
dollars was in dispute. Now, the future market value in 
San Francisco of the stock of the mine in litigation de- 
pended altogether on which of the claimants won the suit. 
If the prosecution won, the stock would fall ; it the defend- 
ant won, it would rise. If one of the " mining sharps" in 
San Francisco could obtain reliable information of the final 
decision of the suit in Virginia City a few hours in advance 
of any others, there would be ' ' millions in it." Abe Parker 
— that is not his proper name — the telegraph operator re- 
ferred to, agreed to furnish one of the leading stock brokers 
of San Francisco the desired information for a share in the 
spoils. Abe's plan was satisfactory and his proposition 
accepted. Abe supplied himself with a telegraph instru- 
ment, some office wire and blank paper, dressed himself 
like a "prospector," and started for the mountains. He 
located in a lonely, out-of-the-way place, about midway 
between Virginia City and San Francisco, in a deserted 
sheep-herder's cabin, in near proximity to the telegraph 



142 SAM JOHNSON. 

line. At that time there was but one line between the two 
cities. Abe ran a fine wire down on two sides of a tele- 
graph pole and into his cabin, arranged his ground wire, 
set up his instrument, and was ready for business. His 
idea was to watch the development of the trial by the dis- 
patches that were constantly passing over the wire about it, 
and when it finally culminated, to attach his ground wire 
— which would not be felt, being about equi- distant be- 
tween the two cities — receive the messages from Yirginia 
City that would be sent to parties in San Francisco an- 
nouncing the decision of the trial, as if he were the San 
Francisco operator. Then he would turn about and send 
the important information to his broker, successfully with- 
holding it from the others. This Abe accomplished, and 
was rewarded for his shrewdness — you may call it rascality 
if you like — by the handsome little fortune of two hundred 
thousand dollars in gold coin. 

At the time that Andrew McFinn' s adventure occurred, 
there was an important mining claim in litigation at Cala- 
veras involving the title to a mine of great value. One of 
the means adopted by parties in San Francisco to secure 
the first information of the decision in such cases, was to 
have the wire cut, and then, by mounted messengers, send 
to the next telegraph office toward San Francisco from the 
place where the wire was cut, and forward the decision. 
To guard against this practice McFinn was sent to Cala- 
veras by the telegraph company, to keep vigilant watch 
over the line during the progress of the trial, particularly 
toward its close. He was especially charged to keep a 
sharp lookout for Musquito Grulch, for if the line was sev- 
ered at that point it would take several hours to make the 
connection again. 

The case was given to the jury one miserably hot, sultry, 
July day. McFinn immediately started on foot, along the 
line toward Musquito GJ-ulch, ten miles distant, "the way 
the bird flies," but the way a footman had to go up hill 
and down, it was almost fifteen. 



TELEGRAPH LINE REPAIRING. 143 

As McFinn was nearing the summit of the mountain 
above the Gulch, about two o'clock in the afternoon, a 
man on horseback shot past him like an arrow from 
the strong bow of an Indian. McFinn knew then that the 
deed was done that he had been endeavoring to prevent, 
and had he been the possessor of a rifle he would have 
paid his respects to the bold rascal. But he did not. 
A few steps brought him to the tree to which the line had 
been attached. It had been severed sure enough. He 
looked down from his dizzy height to the bottom of the 
gulch, a thousand feet below, and shuddered at the 
thought of having to go down there, and climb up again 
with the wire attached to him. But he was not a man to 
hesitate at difficulties or dangers, and so immediately set 
about performing the task. 

After three hours of the most incessant labor and inde- 
scribable suffering, caused by the blinding heat, the fall- 
ing rocks, and loosened dirt, he reached the summit again. 
After a short rest he ascended the tree cautiously, crawled 
out on the limb extending over the Gulch, made the wire 
fast to the end of the limb, and then turned about to 
descend to the ground. He did not do it, however. But 
every hair on his head did stand straight out, and he 
turned pale, and trembled so violently that he almost 
fell from the tree. 

On the same limb, and but a few feet from McFinn stood 
a large bear leisurely contemplating McFinn' s movements, 
as though he were anxious to acquire a knowledge of the 
telegraph line repairing business, or, more likely, he 
was calculating how many meals McFinn would make for 
a bear of his size and appetite. McFinn scrutinized 
his unwelcome caller with consternation and alarm. Not 
so Bruin. He watched McFinn with great complacency 
and coolness, and seemed to enjoy the situation hugely, if 
one could judge by the grin on his hairy face. Sitting 
astride of the limb of a tree, over a yawning abyss, a 
single telegraph wire behind, and a huge bear immediately 



144 SAM JOHKSON. 

in front, is not the most enviable position one could wish 
to occupy. McFinn did not think it was, and he certainly 
ought to know. He called upon all the saints he ever read 
or heard of to come to his rescue, but in vain. Appar- 
ently there were none in that part of the country. He 
made a movement toward the bear to frighten him. The 
bear sat up, reached his arms toward McFinn, seemingly 
to assure him that he would embrace him as fondly as 
parent ever did a loved child. McFinn had been hugged 
oftener than once, and would not have objected to its repe- 
tition had the conditions been favorable, but at present he 
would beg to be excused. The bear waited some time for 
McFinn to come to him, but not being accommodated, 
he started toward McFinn. McFinn tried to frighten him 
away by kicking, striking, cursing and yelling. Bruin 
did not heed his admonitions, but boldly advanced upon 
him. Desperate emergencies beget desperate remedies. 
McFinn slid off the limb, and hung to the wire, intending 
to reach the other side of the Gulch, if possible, by pass- 
ing one hand over the other. Bruin seemed to understand 
the situation almost as well as McFinn did, and, with 
apparent human intelligence, took hold of the wire with 
one of his paws, and began shaking it. McFinn gave up 
all hope of life, and was earnestly calling on the Lord to 
forgive his many sins, when the report of a rifle rang in his 
ears, and Bruin fell from the limb and went bounding 
and rolling, and tumbling to the bottom of the Gulch. 
McFinn' s hands were almost cut in two, and were bleed- 
ing profusely, so that he could not hold on much longer. 
He made an effort to reach the tree, but his hand slipped, 
and he, too, went down, down, to the ravine beneath, 
striking the side of the Gulch, bounding off, only to strike 
lower down, and be struck in turn with loosened dirt and 
rocks. His face was scratched, and his clothes torn by 
brambles and briers. He dashed on, and on, and on until 
he reached the bottom apparently lifeless, and within 
a few feet of his, but a moment before, dreaded enemy — 
the bear. 



TELEGRAPH LINE REPAIRING. 145 

Wlio is this running down the gulch, toward our fallen 
hero, a rifle in her right hand, a hatchet in her left, moc- 
casins on her feet, and her long "black hair streaming 
behind ? It is the " Maid of Musquito Gulch," the heroine 
of many daring adventures. She approaches the bear 
cautiously. Satisfied that he is dead, she hastens to 
McFinn, turns him upon his back, puts her ear to his 
heart, to learn if it still beats, straightens up, gives two 
long, shrill whistles, and then hastens to apply cold water 
to Mc Finn's face from the foaming stream at his side. 

What dusky forms are these approaching \ Two Indian 
squaws. They have come in answer to the maiden's call. 
By direction of the maiden the squaws prepare a litter by 
laying brush and small limbs crosswise on two poles. 
Upon this McFinn was laid, and carried by the squaw 
to the maiden' s home at the foot of the gulch, four miles 
distant. It was a slow and fatiguing journey through the 
winding canon. They were obliged to halt many times to 
recuperate their strength, and also to revive the faintly 
living McFinn by the application of cold water to his head 
and face. It was after nightfall when the maiden and 
her cortege reached her father's rude log cabin at the 
mouth of the Gulch, where it widens out into a beautiful 
little valley. 

McFinn fought the " Grim Destroyer " Death, for four 
long weeks before he finally overcame him, and regained 
his senses. The "Maid of Musquito Gulch," McFinn' s 
rescuer, was his faithful attendant all this while, and until 
his former strength was fully recovered. 

McFinn' s absence was noted, and search instituted 
for him. His tools were found at the foot of the tree 
where he had left them, and it was currently believed that 
he had been murdered by some one who had attempted to 
cut the line, and that the wild beasts had devoured his 
body. 

McFinn regained his bodily strength, but still he was 
loth to leave the rude but hospitable home of his kind 



146 SAM JOHNSON. 

deliverers. He did not do so until the "Maid of Musquito 
Gulch " consented to become the wife of Andrew McFinn. 
She joined him in his camping expeditions, in the summer 
season, repairing telegraph lines, and traveled with him 
until an interesting event occurred that made a proud man 
of Andrew McFinn, but which rendered the camp so 
"squally" that Mrs. McFinn was obliged to abandon 
traveling. 

KECKEATION. 

There is no business, vocation, or profession that so 
depresses and consumes all the faculties of the mind, and 
so wastes the physical system, as telegraphy. It is a 
constant strain, in fact the mind almost becomes welded to 
it, in time. Whenever the operator is within hearing 
of the instrument his thoughts are with it, no matter what 
is occurring around him. The body may wear away, jet 
the faculties of the mind be active and strong, but if the 
mind be overworked, depressed, the plrysical organization 
is affected in like manner. 

Not wishing to adopt the "Sliding Scale," and degen- 
erate into a mere automatical machine, Sam made it a rule 
to embrace every favorable opportunity to "break away " 
from the monotony of the office, and unfetter its withering 
grasp by seeking more lively and cheerful company. 

Poverty Flat is not only poor in name, and fiat on its 
surface, but it is as barren of cultivated society — in a 
society sense — as the opossum's tail is of hair. It has a 
number of good, sociable people, and fine, hospitable 
families ; but each family is a little, isolated community 
of its own, loving and caring for itself. These island 
homes are cheery and pleasant, and agreeable places at 
which to pass an evening, and their inmates kind and free- 
hearted; but they will not venture beyond their own 
homes to form an organized society for the general good. 
Such being the social status in Poverty Flat, congenial 
company can only be found in a private family. 



SATURDAY EVENING. 147 

Those persons enjoy liberty best who have suffered 
imprisonment. Blessings are seldom truly appreciated 
until they have flown. Sam enjoyed these social visits all 
the more for their rarity, and because of his close confine- 
ment to the office. That Sam heartily enjoyed these oases 
in the desert of business, the reader can best judge by 
perusing a description of one of them, in Sam's own 
language. It is entitled : 

SATURDAY EVENING. 

Closely confined all day long in my office, a disagreeable 
northwest wind blowing furiously without, compelled to 
listen to the constant clicking of the instrument, diversified 
by reading and writing, yawning and stretching, I am only 
too happy when evening comes to be permitted to leave my 
dreary, lonesome prison, and wander away in search of 
more agreeable company. The wind has gone down, the 
sun is just passing from view behind the western hills, the 
balmy air is fragrant with the odor of new-mown hay, and 
all nature wears a pleasant, peaceful smile as I lock my 
office door, and, cane in hand, my thoughts occupied with 
the impressions of the beautiful surroundings, leisurely 
wend my footsteps eastward. I am aroused from this con- 
templative mood by the delightful aroma of heliotropes, 
pinks and roses, wafted to my senses from a flower-garden 
which I have approached in my ramble. I step within and 
hear the clear, ringing voice of little Laura on the balcony 
above, asking questions and making suggestions that would 
seem to emanate from a much older head. I am greeted by 
a cheerful u Good evening!" which I know is spoken by 
the entertaining Mrs. Hope, though she is invisible. Mrs. 
Hope and Laura come out into the garden, and are joined 
presently by the modest, thoughtful Miss Adelbert. We 
loiter among the flower beds, discoursing upon the respect- 
ive merits of the different varieties of flowers, inhaling their 
sweetness and admiring their beauty, shrouded by the soft, 
mellow light of the moon that looks down upon us through 



148 . SAir joh^so^. 

the transparent sky above our heads. I am the recipient of 
a fragrant red rose, a pair of sweet-scented, snow white 
pinks, and a tempting double geranium, and my happiness 
is complete. I ask nothing more pleasant on earth, and 
shall be content to gain a Heaven as beautiful and de- 
lightful. 

We betake ourselves to the parlor, where stands the piano, 
with its mouth wide open, and its fifty tongues ready to 
warble us a melodious welcome. The books on the shelves 
in the book-case bespeak us an intelligent feast. The pictures 
on the walls bow their heads in smiling recognition, and 
the rocking-chair in the corner says: "Come to my arms 
and I'll embrace you as fondly as ever lover did his sweet- 
heart, and hold you as comfortably and carefully as doting 
mother ever held innocent babe." 

Miss Adelbert and Laura vanish. While they are absent 
Mrs. Hope and I attack a bungling doctor with vengeance, 
breaking every bone in his body, setting and resetting them, 
pulling and twisting them until our victim writhes and 
groans and shrieks with pain. Then we administer chlo- 
roform, break him all over again, and bandage and splin- 
ter him round about until he is as stiff as a mummy. We 
have only been favoring him with an application of the 
treatment he inflicts upon some of his unfortunate patients. 

What is this skipping so lightly into the room, as airy as 
a feather % Is it a fairy ? Am I dreaming \ Where am I % 
Have I been wafted away to the land of sprites by some 
magic wand ? No ! There sits Miss Adelbert, and yonder 
Mrs. Hope, both as natural as ever, and here am I in the 
same easy rocker. Surely these have not all been trans- 
ported to a land of enchantment. Then how comes this 
nimble creature here, in gauzy, dazzling, snow-white rai- 
ment, with long, loose silken hair extending below her fra- 
gile waist, delicate roses on her head, and yellow, golden 
slippers on her tiny feet. She speaks. What! Laura? 
Can it be possible % It is, it is ! Was ever child so beau- 
tiful? Hark ! she is singing. No, 'tis not Laura. 'Tis the 



SHOULD RAILROADERS MARRY? 149 

bluebirds thrilling notes in the trees outside. It can' t be the 
bluebirds either. ' Tis night. It is Laura. I' m entranced. 
Now she is dancing. 

Light as a fairy, 
Innocent and airy, 
Blushing like a rose, 
Laura on her toes. 

THE LAST TWO. 

We now introduce the reader to the last two of Sam's 
productions — " Should Railroaders Marry?" and "Rail- 
road Telegraph Operators." We will give them in his 
own words. They are the latest emanations from bis 
brain, and therefore deserve corresponding consideration. 

SHOULD RAILROADERS MARRY? 

" Should Railroaders Marry?" In dealing with this 
subject I shall view it simply in a sense of right and 
wrong, not only to railroaders themselves, but to those 
whom they marry, or would marry. I do not intend to 
adduce theories and make assertions unsupported by facts. 
I do not intend or pretend to decide the question that 
I ask — "Should Railroaders Marry?" I shall simply 
spread before the reader facts that have come within the 
scope of my own observation, and allow the reader to 
deduce his or her own conclusions. The future should be 
molded from the teachings of the past, otherwise all expe- 
rience is for naught. If I can show wherein error has been 
committed in the past, it ought to benefit the future. If I 
can show where a good deed has been performed in the 
past, I shall bring forth an example for the future which 
should benefit it. The incidents that I shall depict are 
truths clothed with my own language. The first witness 
that I shall place on the stand is 

BARNEY WILLIAMS. 

, Barney was telegraph operator and station agent at 
Pleasant Yale. He was a fair operator, and attentive to 



150 SAM JOHNSON. 

business. I say attentive to business, and so he was until 
the tempter came, or he went to the tempter, no matter 
which, the end is the same. Barney was human, and it is 
human to love. So far Barney was blameless. But 
extremes in wisdom and extremes in folly have both the 
same parentage, and are equally inexcusable. Love, as 
far as I have observed, seems to partake of the nature of 
electricity, at least it seems to affect operators in a similar 
manner. When it attacks them it gives them a shock like 
that from a powerful battery, not so painful to their phy- 
sical organization, bu£ more destructive to their peace of 
mind, at all events it is so in certain stages, particularly 
before it has been reciprocated. 

Barney was desperately in love at first sight. Operators 
being manipulators by profession, and lovers by nature, 
ought to know how to dispatch business pertaining to their 
calling. Barney did. He was shortly engaged. He 
would be married as soon as he could purchase a lot, 
build a house, and furnish it in complete order. These were 
the conditions exacted by his fair Venus. Barney's love 
was unadulterated. That of his adored shows considera- 
ble mixture with things other than those pertaining to the 
heart. No matter, Barney knew it not. He was blind — 
love blind. 

From the moment of Barney's conquest he began to lose 
interest in telegraphy, in railroading, to be absent from 
the office when wanted, and to be absent-minded, and 
neglectful of business. Not to a very great extent, but 
still enough to be noticeable. Barney began to study and 
practice economy. He denied himself the luxury of an 
occasional cigar ; dispensed with his " eye-opener " morn- 
ings ; boarded himself in the freight house, and ci bunked " 
in the office. Money was his god, and Miss Sphinx hi 
goddess. " Miss Sphinx, that was her name. A very hard 
name to love. Barney did not love the name. In time 
Barney bought a town lot. While the necessary coin was 
accumulating to build the intended house he dug a well. 



BARNEY WILLIAMS. 151 

Dug it himself. He managed it after this fashion. He 
placed a windlass over the well, attached a bncket to the 
rope, and lowered it to the bottom ; then ran down a 
ladder, filled the bncket with earth, climbed to the top, 
drew the bucket np with the aid of the windlass, emptied 
it, and then repeated the operation. This he did day after 
day, whenever he conld spare a half hour from the depot, 
until he had dug down thirty feet, until he opened a vein 
of water, and was relieved. Barney did all this for love. 
Gold would not have tempted him to undertake such a 
task. 

Next the house, Barney hired the frame put up. The 
inside work he did himself. Up at five in the morning, 
and up until ten and twelve at night, working in his 
house ; devising all kinds of pigeon holes, shelves, 
drawers, and brackets, with an eye single only to the 
pleasure of Miss Sphinx, Miss Phoebe Sphinx. One 
happy Saturday night the house was finished. They were 
to be married the Thursday following — Barney Williams 
to Miss Phoebe Sphinx. I say were to be. The Tuesday 
preceding this Thursday that was to bring so much happi- 
ness to Barney Williams, San Francisco office had a 
message for all offices on the division. He tried several 
times to " raise" them, but failed. Finally, he told the 
train dispatcher about the message, and his inability to 
secure the attention of the operators. The dispatcher 
said: "Send it here, and I will see if they will take it 
from me." 

The dispatcher notified all the offices as he could 
"raise" them, to be on hand at three o'clock, "sharp," 
to receive a "twenty-three" message, and to watch and 
give "O. K,," in turn, beginning at Poverty Flat; and 
that any one failing to do so, would be dismissed from the 
service. Now, at that time, the dispatcher was a man of 
his word. His decrees were as irrevokable as the judg- 
ments of fate. At three o'clock every office answered 
promptly. The message was sent. Poverty Flat returned 



152 SAM JOHNSON. 

"O. K.," and so did the other offices iu regular order, 
until Pleasant Yale was reached. No "0. K." A dead 
silence reigned for half a minute. Every operator on 
the line held his breath, for he well knew what would 
be the fate of poor Barney if he did not " come to time." 
He failed. The next office was told to answer. When all 
the offices had given " 0. K.," except Pleasant Yale, 
the dispatcher again called Pleasant Yale. After a 
short delay Barney made the customary i i. "Why 
did you not give 'O. K.' to that 'twenty-three' mes- 
sage when your turn came?" asked the dispatcher. Bar- 
ney opened his key. That was a "stunner." He must 
have time to recover from the blow, time to consider. He 
tried to frame various excuses, but all to no purpose. 
They only made bad worse. He was notified that an 
operator would be sent there immediately to relieve 
him. That was a fearful blow to Barney Williams. 
What would he do? Ah! he would go to his dear 
Phoebe, tell all his trouble, and she would console 
him. Did she do it? Did she fall on his neck and say 
that she would marry him Thursday if there was but one 
cracker in the house, and nothing else, for the first 
meal ; and if he was bareheaded and barefooted, and had 
but one coat to his back ? Did she ? No, she did not 
Miss Phoebe Sphinx wasn't that kind of a woman. She 
told the disconsolate Mr. Barney Williams, ex-telegraph 
operator, that he might consider the engagement at an end. 
Barney vowed that he would set the house on fire, and 
then jump into the well and drown himself. 

"Do as you please," coolly replied the heartless Miss 
Phoebe Sphinx. "The house is yours ; burn it. The well 
is yours; jump into it. Good day, sir," and she closed 
the door on him. 

I will close this "o'er true tale" with the same question 
with which I began it : "Should railroaders marry ? ' ' 



153 

TIMOTHY PLUNGEE. 

Timothy Plunger "held forth" at Guillotine. Tim was 
a No. 1 operator, a No. 1 agent, and a No. 1 fellow. He 
was a favorite with all the young ladies, not to mention the 
widows. California is the home of the widow, at least 
more of them make their homes here than anywhere else. 
But I digress. Tim was admired "by all of the "tender" 
sex at Guillotine who dared to smile upon him. But c 'the 
best laid plans o' mice and men gang aft aglee." The 
charms of Guillotine's fair daughters could not charm Tim. 
His heart seemed to them to be calloused. Their Cupid 
darts could not penetrate it. Alas, they did not know that 
he had no heart — that it was already another s. It was. 
Before coming to Guillotine Tim had worked a short time 
in the tule swamps near Sacramento. There he met, wooed, 
and won the heart of an innocent little seraph of sweet six- 
teen. Tim was twenty-six. Railroaders seem never to 
consider age in love affairs. Sixteen or sixty it is immate- 
rial which. They don't know the difference, or don't care. 
Such was the case with Timothy Plunger. Probably it is 
not so with all. Tim wanted to marry right away — so did 
Fannie. But the laws of California say girls under eighteen 
years of age shall not marry without the consent of their 
parents. Fannie' s parents would not consent. Cruel pa- 
rents. They did more. They got Tim out of his situation. 
He next appeared at Guillotine. But Tim's heart was with 
his Fannie, and he was unhappy. Love laughs at laws as 
well as locksmiths. Tim stole his Fannie from her dear 
parents, eloped with her into the State of Nevada, where 
the law does not interfere with love affairs, and they were 
married, and at once journeyed back to Guillotine. From 
the wedding day forth Timothy Plunger was another man — 
in a business sense. His office call was neglected more and 
more. People had to wait to receive and to deliver their 
freight. Trains were delayed, in fact all kinds of annoy- 
ances began to take place at the Guillotine depot, Tim 
didn't seem to notice it — he saw only Fannie. He would 



154 SAM JOHNSON. 

run at her bidding at any time and anywhere. He was 
reprimanded again and again, until finally "forbearance 
ceased to be a virtue," and he was "let out." I again ask, 
' ' Should railroaders marry 2" 



Micky McFadden, as his name indicates, was an ardent, 
quick-tempered, excitable youth. Micky's red hair had 
been burnished by nineteen summer suns, eighteen of them 
California's, and one the "old sod's." Micky was a tele- 
graph operator. He began his telegraphic career as mes- 
sage boy in a country town, where dispatches had frequent- 
ly to be carried four or five miles into the country. Micky, 
true'to the predilections of his ancestors, spurned a horse's 
back and every other mode of conveyance other than the 
railroad, therefore his excursions into the country on mat- 
ters of business were made on foot. From being at first a 
task, they gradually developed into pleasant trips. They 
were generally remunerative also, which made them all the 
more relishable. 

Habits contracted in youth can never be wholly overcome 
or changed. After Micky had charge of an office, he 
availed himself of every favorable opportunity to take a 
jaunt into the country, if for no other purpose, as he said, 
than to give his legs a holiday. On one of these excursions 
Micky espied a buxom dairy-maid, 

Her lovely brown eyes, bright, sparkling and mischievous, 

Singing merrily as the birds in the treeses, 

Her long golden hair whipping the balmy breezes, 

Her round, plump arms extracting essence of cheeses, 

and he was captivated, soul and body, and stood gazing at 
her like one bewitched. The cheerful milk-maid noticed 
Micky, and thinking he wanted some milk, said : ' ' Young 
man, would ye's be afther wantin' a drap o' this '\ " 

"Thank you, kind lady, I should be very happy to ac- 
cept it from your delicate hands," spoke blushing Micky, 
making a low bow. 

After waiting a minute, the dairy-maid said : ' ' Well, if 



155 

ye's want it, come after it. Be ye's thinkin' I'll git up an' 
carry it to ye's, ye's big, gawkin thing?" 

In this manner the u ice was broken." Soon Miss Cra- 
ghie O'Shea — such was the poetical name of the charming 
dairy-maid — was drowning in love, and "that same" was 
Mr. Micky McFadden. They didn' t drown. No one was 
ever known to drown in that element ; but it has been the 
cause of innumerable drownings in a watery element. 

Micky and Craghie boarded the train one happy day, 
bound to Oakland to procure the consent of the county 
clerk to their union. Now, Craghie was two years younger 
than Micky, which made her seventeen. Micky was not a 
lawyer, and, moreover, he despised the law, and knew noth- 
ing about it and cared less. When the county clerk asked 
him the age of his intended, Craghie blushed and turned 
away her face, but Micky came to her defence in a " jiffy." 

"And what business is that of yours," said he, "wheth- 
er she be fifteen or fifty?" 

"Keep calm, young man," spoke the clerk; "the law 
respects age, not love. If the lady of your choice is under 
eighteen years of age, I cannot grant you a license without 
the consent of her parents." 

"Holy Father!" exclaimed Micky, staring at the clerk 
with wide extended eyes. 

But Micky was quick-witted, and an idea that might 
overcome the difficulty flashed into his mind at once. 

"Should I telegraph to her parents and get a favorable 
answer, would that be satisfactory ? " inquired the ardent 
youth. 

"Certainly," answered the clerk. 

Micky caught his charmer' s arm and they hastened to 
the telegraph office. Miss Craghie said she knew how to 
talk to her parents better than Micky, and so insisted on 
writing the dispatch herself. And she did. Here it is : 

Mr. Murphy O'Shea, "Oakland, Cal., Aug. 18th, 1ST-, 

Mrs. Blarny O'Shea, Mownt Alta : 

Plase tell the clerk o' the coort that ye's want me to marry darlint Micky 
McFadden, an' don't be slapin' while you're doin' it, ather. 

Your own darlint child, Miss Craghie O'Shea." 



156 SAM JOHNSON. 

After waiting two seemingly never-ending hours, Micky 
and Craghie received a favorable reply to the telegram, and 
straightway hurried to the clerk' s office, and were soon fur- 
nished with the coveted permit to be made man and wife, 
which happy event they speedily consummated. 

The happy couple spent two days in San Francisco, and 
then returned to Mount Alta. Here begins and ends the 
old, old story. Micky's interest in business began at once 
to abate. His telegraphing after a short time was almost 
unintelligible, and it was difficult to make him understand 
anything. He became unreliable, and of course unsafe as 
a railroader. Result — he "stepped down and out." I re- 
peat : ' ' Should railroaders marry % ' ' 

MOSES HUNT. 

Of all the truly clever men and out and out ladies' men, 
Mose Hunt surpassed any that had ever twisted a brake or 
punched a ticket. He would stop a long freight train at 
almost any crossing, house, or other place on the road to 
let a lady off, be it far from or near to a statiom. Once he 
stopped his train just a mile west of Poverty Flat to let a 
lady off, not for any good reason, but simply to gratify a 
whim of hers, for she was no nearer her destination there 
than she would have been had she stopped at Poverty Flat. 
In starting his train a draw-head pulled out, and the delay 
it caused threw him on a passenger train's time, due from 
an opposite direction ; and had it (the passenger train) been 
on time, there would probably have been a collision. Such 
a noble, obliging young man could not remain unwedded. 
Moses Hunt did not. Married life increased Moses' admi- 
ration for and attention to the fair, but only to one of them 
in particular, and that one Mrs. Gertie Hunt. She was his 
constant traveling companion. Mose had been promoted 
to passenger conductor. When not actually engaged going 
through the train collecting tickets, he would be found by 
the side of his adored spouse. At stations where there was 
a pause of five or ten minutes, they (Mose and his wife) 



JEREMIAH LUDLOW. 157 

could invariably be seen walking up and down the plat 
form arm in arm. Too much attention in one direction 
curtails it in another. Such was the case with Moses Hunt. 
He resigned — by invitation. Once more: " Should rail- 
roaders marry?" 

JEREMIAH LUDLOW. 

Jeremiah Ludlow was one of those stern, sober, matter- 
of-fact business men who seem to chill one with their very 
presence. When Jerry was on duty he wore a countenance 
that never smiled, that never changed. No man could tell 
by his looks whether he was the noblest man in existence 
or the greatest villain unhung. He attended strictly to 
business in all its requirements. He was polite and gen- 
tlemanly, and conducted all his movements in so orderly 
and regular a manner that he seemed more like a human 
machine than a God-given creature. Jerry made railroad- 
ing his idol until he achieved the height of his ambition — 
charge of a passenger train. In one respect conductors are 
like young men studying for the ministry. As soon as a 
candidate for the ministry has been ordained and becomes 
established in his first circuit or station, he almost invaria- 
bly, within six months thereafter, takes unto himself a wife. 
Just so with a railroader. JSTot many months are numbered 
with the past after he has become passenger conductor, un- 
til we find him on the roll of the Benedicts. 

Jeremiah Ludlow went east to the State of his nativity, 
and brought therefrom to the sunset land one of the fairest 
of the fair. Again he donned the conductor's cap, and 
with punch in hand, resumed his trips to and fro in his 
trains, stern, stolid and unreadable as ever. 

Train No. 4, Jeremiah Ludlow, conductor, was to leave 
Sacramento at eight o' clock A. m. At the exact minute the 
engineer rang his bell, and looked back for a signal from 
the conductor to go ahead. He saw none. The conductor 
was not there to give it. He did not make his appearance, 
neither could he be found at any hotel or boarding house 



158 SAM JOHNSON. 

in the city. He did appear, however, some time during 
the day, hut failing to explain his absence satisfactorily, 
he was excused from further service by the company. May 
I ask the question again : "Should railroaders marry ? " 

LARRY BLUCHER. 

Larry Blucher served a long apprenticeship as brakeman, 
then a number of years as freight conductor, was promoted 
to passenger conductor, and then what? A wife. So far 
good. He rented a set of rooms at a cost of twenty -five 
dollars a month, and boarded at a restaurant at a further 
cost of fifty dollars a month. He took his wife out riding 
in a fine " turn-out" every day that he was at home ; at- 
tended theatres, balls and parties, frequented races, betting 
heavily and losing correspondingly. All this time he was 
being " shadowed" by the company's detectives, as all 
conductors are. No matter how much the managers of a 
corporation attend races and club rooms, and bet and lose ; 
they have a right to — there is no one to say they shall not. 
But Mr. Conductor must look to his betting and to his 
pleasure-seeking, if he would preserve his laurels. Larry 
was a good liver — lived fast and enjoyed life. But by so 
doing he overstepped the bounds of railroad forbearance, 
and was dismissed from the service. And again the ques- 
tion haunts me : " Should railroaders marry ? " 

JOHN KEYSER. 

John Keyser was thick and short, altogether unlike a 
railroader. ~No one to look at him would ever think that 
he was active enough or had strength enough to be a brake- 
man. But he had. He was small but mighty. John was 
good and kind — too good for his own good. He often went 
hungry himself in preference to seeing a fellow "twister" 
denied a meal. In time John was made freight conductor. 
That was well enough — so good that John thought he must 
share it with another. He did— he got married. His kind 
disposition got him into trouble. He would seldom deny 



JAKE HOWELL. 159 

a poor man or a poor woman passage on his train, if he 
thought he or she was destitute and deserving. Charity 
covers a multitude of sins, but when it is some one else 1 s 
charity that we are dispensing, it is not so secretive. John 
did not think the company were losing anything, because, 
as the saying is, "blood cannot be got out of a turnip." 
The company did not view it in that light. They put ' ' spot- 
ters ' ' on John' s track. 

A very poorly dressed, feeble- appearing, old-looking la- 
dy came to the depot at Poverty Flat one day just afteY 
the passenger train had gone west. She inquired of Sam 
when the next train would leave for Stockton. Sam an- 
swered, "In half an hour." She said she had missed the 
first train and would have to take the freight train. She 
did. 

John Keyser was conductor of the train. The old lady 
told John a pitiful story in a pitifully tearful manner. She 
said she had been driven away from her own home — where 
she had lived for years — by her dastardly son-in-law, now 
that his wife was dead, and her poor old mother had no 
one to defend her ; that she had a daughter at Stockton 
who would take care of her if she could only get there, but 
she had no money, and did not know what she would do if 
he put her off. John's heart was touched. He said: 
"Never mind, mother, you shall not be put off this train 
until you wish to get off." 

"God bless you! God bless you, my good man," she 
joyfully exclaimed. 

Now, this woman proved to be a "make-up," a "spot- 
ter." She reported the case to a higher court. This court 
decided that John Keyser' s services as conductor could be 
dispensed with. " Should railroaders marry ? " 

JAKE HOWELL. 

December 16th, 1870, it began raining in California in 
true California style, which is almost a solid body of water 
descending from the clouds, accompanied by a terrific 



160 SA3I J0HXS0X. 

south-east wind. On the night of the nineteenth several 
land-slides occurred on the line of the Central Pacific Rail- 
road, in the Coast Range Mountains, midway between 
Sacramento and San Francisco. One of these slides was a 
mile, and another half a mile in length. They covered the 
track with dirt and boulders from ten to fifty feet deep. It 
was impossible to build a track around these extensive 
slides, therefore this debris had to be removed. The rain 
continued to pour down almost incessantly. Sloughs, 
ponds and lakes formed everywhere. Streams overflowed 
their banks and spread out miles and miles over the level 
country, particularly in the San Joaquin valley. Commu- 
nication between Sacramento and San Francisco by rail was 
entirely cut off. No trains ran west of Stockton. 

Jake Howell was telegraph operator at San Fernando. 
Jake had formerly worked at a station sixty -five miles east, 
where he had wooed and won a dark-eyed, raven-haired, 
plump brunette, whose father's ranche extended for miles 
along the east bank of the placid San Joaquin, and whose 
cattle and sheep, numbering many thousands, grazed and 
fatted upon the rich pastures of his thousands of acres of 
bottom land. 

Now, it had been agreed upon by Jake and his fair affi- 
anced that the eighteen hundred and seventieth anniversary 
of the day that gave the world a Saviour, should also give 
Jake a wife, and the "Belle of the San Joaquin" a hus- 
band. 

Every preparation had been made at the ranch for a 
grand "send off" to the young couple — a wedding such 
as had not been witnessed since the proud days of Spanish 
rule. Jake, too, had got himself up in magnificent style 
— plug hat, white cravat, "claw-hammer" coat, tight-leg- 
ged pants, and red-topped boots. Jake carefully packed 
his entire wedding "outfit," including the wedding ring, 
in a valise, and, clad only in his work- day suit, boarded 
the cars on the morning of December 20th, with light step 
and buoyant feelings, eastward bound toward the idol of 
his heart. 



JAKE HOWELL. 161 

At Livermore the train was brought to a stand by a green 
signal displayed at the telegraph office. Here Jake learned 
of the damage that the track had sustained the previous 
night, and that there was no probability of getting a train 
through east inside of a month. Oh, what a bitter disap- 
pointment ! He had fondly hoped in three short hours to 
bask in the smiles of his sweet inamorata, but now, alas, 
when should he see her % But love laughs at storms and 
floods and all the perils of land and sea. Jake was in love. 
He must be and would be at his prospective father in-law' s 
on Christmas day. To think was to act with Jake, so 
prompt were the emotions of his heart. He bought a mus- 
tang. Ten dollars was the winter price. Mustangs are as 
hard, unyielding, and perverse as a sinner's conscience, 
and will outwear three docile, respectable animals. Jake 
wrapped his valise in rubber cloth, buckled it on his sad- 
dle, mounted, and, putting spurs to his mustang, departed 
eastward in the pouring rain and beating wind. 

In his haste and anxiety Jake neglected to provide him- 
self with food and stimulants for his long and fearful jour- 
ney. Hunger and fatigue will dampen the ardor of even a 
lover, especially if it be already dampened by the waters 
of heaven. As the day began to draw to a close his spirits 
began to wane, and his stomach to chide him for withhold- 
ing its regular bounteous supply of California excellencies. 
If he could have found a house, or even a sheep-herder's, 
cabin, he would have put up for the night. 

The summit of the coast range is barren and unproduc- 
tive, affording only pasturage for sheep, and that alone in 
the summer season. Jake had been obliged to go out of 
the wagon road in order to get higher up and ford the 
swollen, rushing streams where they were not so deep and 
wide. In fact he was lost. He knew not where he was, 
except that he could determine the general direction of his 
route. He could tell that from the course of the mountains 
and streams. He kept his mustang's head to the east. 
Darkness overtook him on the brow of a hill. He was 



162 8AM JOHNSON. 

compelled to halt. It was still raining. He was without 
fire, food, or shelter. Oh, Love, what strange and dangerous 
paths thou leadest men into ! He sheltered himself from 
the wind as best he could by standing to leeward of his 
shivering mustang. The night was dark and gloomy, but 
not cold. The mustang, wearying of his standing position, 
lay down. Emergencies give us strange bed fellows. Jake 
and the mustang occupied one bed, each adding his warmth 
to the other. Jake dropped into disturbed slumber, and 
dreamed that he had wandered through the mountains for 
several days, but had finally reached his intended father- 
in-law's, where they had all given him up for dead. He 
dreamed that he was rewarded for all his privations by 
being once more permitted to clasp his darling to his heart. 
Jake's dream was suddenly brought to an end. He 
awoke to find himself being jerked along over the ground 
at a furious rate, and finally tumbled headlong over a bank 
into a ravine below, whose cool waters soon brought him 
to a realization of his situation. 

Instead of clasping his sweetheart to his bosom, Jake 
had thrown his arms about the mustang's neck, which 
frightened that animal so badly that it ran away, dragging 
Jake with it until he loosened his hold upon the mustang* s 
neck and fell into the ravine. Daylight soon began to 
break, which permitted him to realize the full extent of his 
* loss — a ten dollar mustang, an eighty dollar suit of clothes, 
and a twenty dollar wedding ring. In vain did he search 
the hills and hollows round about for the runaway. He 
could not be found — there was so much water everywhere 
that it was impossible to track him. Once more Jake 
turned his face eastward, and ere an hour had passed was 
made happy by the sight of smoke winding upward from 
a house situated low down in a little valley. Never did 
smoke and house and garden patch look so beautiful to 
Jake as now. Even the image of his heart's idol tiitted 
from his mind for the moment, as he feasted upon the antic- 
ipated joys of a warm, cheerful fire, and a hearty meal of 



JAKE nOWELL. 163 

strengthening food. These thoughts and feelings gave new 
vigor to his exhausted body, and he soon reached the door 
of the unpretentious dwelling. He knocked and a voice 
answered, ' ' Come in ! " in a tone that sounded as sweet to 
Jake as the song of the nightingale. 

Jake opened the door. A woman stood before him with 
a babe in her arms. At sight of Jake' s muddy and disor- 
dered figure she stepped back, with fear depicted in her 
countenance. 

" Don't be alarmed, my good lady," said Jake, "but 
please allow me to warm and dry myself, and do get me 
something to eat — I am almost famished." 

The tone of Jake's voice and the pitiful expression of his 
countenance dispelled the woman's apprehensions of dan- 
ger, and she hastened to build a warm fire, and set before 
him a frugal but bountiful meal. 

The woman's husband, who had gone up the ravine to 
gather wood, returned, and was greatly surprised to find a 
stranger in the house, who was being served with the best 
his larder afforded. But he was still more astonished when 
Jake related his adventures of the day and night preceding, 
and told what had induced him to undertake such a haz- 
ardous journey. 

Jake's newly -made friends soothed his wounded spirit 
with honest sympathy, and pressed him to remain with 
them until the next day, which he reluctantly did. 

Jake parted from his hospitable entertainers recruited in 
strength, revived in spirit, and well provided with refresh- 
ments needful for several days. It was still raining, but 
not heavily, and the wind was not as strong as on the pre- 
vious day. He traveled twenty miles that day as nearly as 
he could calculate, and slept in a* straw pile over night. 
He awoke full of hope and confident that he would yet 
achieve his heart's desire — his journey's end — in time for 
the nuptial ceremony on the twenty-fifth. Alas for all hu- 
man calculations ! They are but straws to be blown where 
the wind listeth. He had not proceeded a mile on his way 



184 SAM JOHXSON 

ere he was forced to take refuge in a barn and remain there 
for three days, while a storm of wind and rain raged with- 
out that defied the power of man or beast to withstand it. 

Jake's feelings while he paced to and fro in his prison 
barn, on that eventful Christmas day that was to have 
brought him so much bliss and happiness, can be better 
imagined than described. 

The morning after Christmas the wind calmed to a mod- 
erate breeze ; the clouds partly disappeared from the heav- 
ens, permitting the sun to shine at intervals. Jake depart- 
ed from his involuntary retreat at break of • day much de- 
pressed, yet determined to press on until he achieved the 
goal of his ambition. We will not narrate the many priva- 
tions he endured, the countless obstacles he had to over- 
come, the ponds and sloughs he had to wade, and the 
streams to swim ; but suffice it to say that he reached the 
overflowed banks of the San Joaquin, opposite the house 
of his adored, and near the railroad, on the afternoon of 
December 31st. We will leave him here for a short time 
while we pay a visit to the house of his affianced, and see 
what has been passing there while we have been wandering 
with Jake. 

The family carriage of Ferdinand Felix, the proud father 
of Myrtle Felix, the prospective bride of Jake Howell, was 
in waiting at the depot when the train should have arrived 
that was to have brought the not long since fortunate Jake. 
Yes, fortunate indeed, for Jake was a telegraph operator, 
and they as a class are not often smiled upon by good for- 
tune, though they are generally themselves smiling, and 
suck the bone of contentment as happily as they would eat 
the pudding of luxury. 

The following lines seem to be peculiarly applicable to 
Jake's situation at present : 

" Luck's the giddiest of all creatures, 

Nor likes in one place long to stay ; 
She smoothes the hair back from your features, 

Kisses you quick and runs away." 



JAKE HOWELL. 165 

The train did not arrive, and consequently neither did 
Jake. The carriage waited until evening and then drove 
back to the residence of Ferdinand Felix. Myrtle had 
worked herself into a fever of excitement and uneasiness 
conjecturing what could possibly be detaining the carriage. 
When she learned that the train had not arrived, she 
gasped for breath and almost fell to the floor. Could the 
train have run off the track and killed Jake, or badly in- 
jured him, and might he not then be lying somewhere un- 
attended and uncared for? She wrung her hands, wept 
and sobbed and would not be comforted. • The wires were 
all down, so that no news of the train or of the cause of its 
non-arrival had been received at the station. The next day 
the wires were repaired, and the reason for the non-arrival 
of the train made known. Telegrams were sent in quest of 
Jake by Ferdinand Felix. They learned that he had de- 
parted from San Fernando, and had left the train at Liver- 
more, but no further trace of him could be found. 

Christmas at the house of Ferdinand Felix was a sad day 
indeed. Myrtle locked herself in her room and would see 
no one. She sat at the window all day looking out over 
the now broad and turbulent San Joaquin. She saw wild 
ducks and geese sporting in their native element, flirting, 
courting, and pairing. Then she thought of Jake and her- 
self, and laid her face in her hands and wept tears of bitter 
disappointment. She thought that luck had not only de- 
serted her, but that ill-luck had favored her, and continu- 
ally repeated the lines : 

*f Dame 111 Luck's never in a flurry, 
Nor quick her close embrace she quits ; 

She says she's in no kind of hurry, 
And sits upon your bed and — knits." 

The very day, and almost if not exactly at the same 
hour that Jake appeared opposite Ferdinand Felix's man- 
sion on the San Joaquin, the mustang that Jake had ridden 
out of Livermore returned to its former owner. This fact 
was quickly communicated to Ferdinand Felix, and Jake 



166 SAM JOHNSON. 

was given up for lost. Myrtle Felix fell to the floor seem- 
ingly lifeless, when this news was communicated to her, 
and was with difficulty revived. 

The San Joaquin was two miles wide at the place where 
Jake approached it, opposite Ferdinand Felix's ranch. 
He looked long and wistfully toward the house, hoping to 
catch a glimpse, if ever so faint, of her for whom he had 
suffered so much. It was a forlorn hope, repaid only with 
disappointment. One last, lingering look, and he quitted 
his watch, and started toward the railroad. He was hat- 
less and coatless, and his shirt and trowsers "all tattered 
and torn." His hair straggled all about his head, his eyes 
were inflamed, and his voice hoarse from a cold. He 
reached the railroad — a three-mile walk, and he would be 
at the station. It seemed such a short distance compared 
with what he had already traversed, that he almost imag- 
ined he was there already. But he wasn't. A greater 
danger and greater obstacle than any he had heretofore 
encountered had yet to be overcome. The drawbridge was 
open. He walked to the open end of the bridge, and stood 
and looked down at the deep, rushing, maddening waters 
with such a cloud of despair and darkness resting upon 
him that it almost blotted out his wish to longer live, 
and sorely tempted him to leap into the swiftly moving, 
muddy waters beneath him, and put an end to care and 
trouble. Three different times as he was about to make 
the fatal spring, those talismanic words : ' ' Faint heart 
never won fair lady," flitted into his mind like an encour- 
aging spirit, and he repented of his rash determination, 
and turned about and walked away. Upon its third repe- 
tition he desisted altogether, took courage, and began 
to devise some means whereby he might reach the other 
shore. Suddenly a bright idea seemed to possess him, 
and he cheered up immediately, and hurriedly walked 
back over the trestle work to a place opposite a telegraph 
pole that stood fifty feet from the track in water halfway 
to its top. Jake pulled off his boots — his socks had been 



JAKE HOWELL. 167 

thrown away days before — slipped from the trestle work 
into the water, and boldly started toward the telegraph 
pole. The current was against him, bnt the re -enkindled 
flame of love was burning in his heart, and he swam with 
the strength of a Hercnles, reached the telegraph pole, 
drew himself up on the cross-arm and rested. There was 
one wire on each end of the cross-arm, and one on the pole 
about eighteen inches above. Jake stood up on the cross- 
arm, holding to the pole. Making a very nice calcula- 
tion, he leaped astride the top wire, balancing himself by 
placing a foot on each of the lower wires. As soon as his 
bare feet touched the wires he experienced an electric 
shock that numbed him through and through. His feet 
and hands stuck to the wires like the tongue to iron on a 
freezing cold day. Whenever he attempted to move he 
was racked with shooting, torturing pains that almost 
drove him mad. But go ahead he must, and go ahead he 
did. He placed one foot ahead, then the other, and then 
pulled his body along with kis hands. Often he parted 
with skin and flesh, and blood trickled from his hands and 
feet. 

Now, the moment that Jake undertook to dispatch him- 
self bodily over the wires, he rendered them useless for 
through communication according to Morse's manner of 
transmission. He crossed all three of the wires. Opera- 
tors began putting on their ground wires to locate the 
trouble. As the offices near Jake put on their ground 
wires, shortening the lines for the main battery, the more 
powerful the shocks were which he experienced. His legs 
would straighten out as stiffly and feel as dead as artificial 
ones. Whenever a ground wire was put on the upper line 
a flash of electricity shot up Jake's back-bone, and stood 
every hair of his head on end. If he attempted to stroke 
them down with his hands, they snapped and flashed fire 
as though a million lightning bugs had lit on his head. 
The ground wires came nearer and nearer. His feet and 
hands were drawn around the wires like bird claws. Just 



168 SAM JOHjS t SOJST. 

as lie was cautiously, slowly and painfully dragging him- 
self over the deepest and most dangerous part of the river, 
the office nearest him attached the ground wire to the top 
line. In a twinkling Jake was doubled up around it. In 
another second the wire parted, and he fell. The instant 
the line broke the current ceased to now, and freed Jake 
from its monster grip, and with that intuition or instinct 
that great dangers awaken, he as quickly straightened out 
and fell across the two lower wires. After an hour of the 
most laborious and distressing toil, sliding himself along 
on his back, inch by inch, he reached a telegraph pole on 
the side of the river opposite that from which he started. 
But, O ! what a change in his appearance. It had been 
frightf al enough before, but now it was hideous, sickening. 
Clothes torn into shreds, and besmeared with blood, hands, 
feet, and l5ody lacerated and bruised, and life almost 
extinct. As he looked upon himself in this deplorable 
condition he thought : " Will I be able to reach my desti- 
nation, and if I do will they recognize me?" 

Jake slid down from his perch as soon as he felt able, 
swam to the bridge, and climbed up on it with great diffi- 
culty. He must make all haste now, for daylight was 
folding her wings, and fast shutting out the guide to his 
weary feet. He would not go to the station, but only 
beyond the wide-reaching waters of the river, and start 
across the level pasture in a direct line to the house of Fer- 
dinand Felix. He reached the place with beating heart 
and trembling limbs, and knocked for admittance but a 
few moments after the receipt of the telegram from Liver- 
more certifying to the return of the mustang he had ridden 
away, and to his probable death. The door was opened 
by Mrs. Felix, who, upon beholding Jake, sprang back, 
screamed, and said : "Who are you \ who are you V 

U I am Jake Howell, the affianced husband of your 
daughter Myrtle," answered the wreck of the once pre- 
possessing Jake. 

Myrtle heard the words, " Jake Howell, and despite the 



JAKE HOWELL. 169 

resistance of her attendants, sprang from the sofa on which 
she was lying, and flew to the door. But oh ! what a 
shock ! Pointing her finger at Jake, she screamed : ' ' He 
has murdered him ! he has murdered him ! Look at his 
bloody hands and clothes/ ' and she swooned, and was 
caught in her mother's arms. The door was shut in 
Jake's face. With downcast eyes, and broken heart, and 
faltering footsteps, he dragged himself away from the 
house to the barn, where he lay down in the hay, and 
prayed long and earnestly to the Lord to relieve him from 
his misery. He was relieved, but not in the way that he 
asked. 

Jake was too weary and afflicted in body to be suscepti- 
ble to the troubles of the mind when once his eyes were 
closed. He slept soundly until the break of day, when he 
arose much refreshed. He betook himself to a pond, 
washed his face and swollen limbs, straightened his hair, 
cleansed his besmeared clothes, then hied beneath the win- 
dow of his adored, and sang with something of his old feel- 
ing and ardor one of Myrtle's favorite love ditties. 

The plaintive pleading and wooing of the lover's sweet 
notes greeted Myrtle' s ears. She awoke, thinking she had 
been dreaming of the happy hours that had flown never to 
return. She listened : both voice and song were familiar. 
" It is the one that I used to love so well to hear Jake sing." 
She sat up and listened again, then exclaiming : "Can it be 
Jake?" sprang to the floor, raised the window, and looked 
out. Their eyes met — the story was told. Myrtle joyfully 
exclaimed: "It is Jake!" hastily robed, ran down stairs, 
and threw herself into his arms. 

Jake was cared for like a prince. His wounds were 
dressed, his heart made whole by the loving caresses of 
Myrtle, and ere long Jake Howell was himself again. He 
was the "Hero of the San Joaquin," and well did he merit 
the title. His valise was forwarded from Livermore, and 
found to contain his wedding outfit unsoiled. 

Jake and Myrtle were made one, spent a month' s honey- 



170 SAM JOHNSON. 

moon at her father's, and then the happy couple went to 
San Fernando, where they still reside as happy as the 
happiest. "Should railroaders marry?" 

DAKBY DIXON. 

Now, there was Darby Dixon, at Elk Town — a little, 
nervous, fussy fellow, as active as a cricket, and full of talk 
and blow. Fine clothes, fine cigars and fine girls composed 
the trinity that he worshiped. He sneered at money — it 
was of no consequence. In fact he never had any — it was 
somebody' s else long before he got it. If there was a party, 
a ball, a picnic, or a horse race in the vicinity, Darby was 
there by fair means or foul. His situation was continually 
wavering in the balance. His head escaped decapitation 
many times only by the breadth of a hair. He got more 
reprimands over the wire than all the operators on the 
"string." Darby had "cheek" and pluck and tongue. 
They are three giants that a hundred Davids cannot slay. 
Darby was as great a talker over the line as when face to 
face with his listener, if he were allowed a chance to talk. 
It took a pretty strong grip to "choke him off." What- 
ever Darby undertook he strove to accomplish with the 
whole strength of his body and mind. Not being with a 
steady pull and a strong pull, but by giving and receiving 
continuous determined attacks and rebounds until the task 
was completed or the difficulty overcome ; like a fish nib- 
bling at a hook, until little by little he wins the coveted 
bait. But a fisher caught him at last — Miss Carrie Fisher. 
She was small, she was, plump, she was fair. She was neat 
and tidy, sprightly and vivacious, and could make as de- 
licious biscuit as ever man ate, not to mention all the other 
arts of the provident housewife in which she was proficient. 
Darby was captivated — soul, mind, and body. Carrie was 
in his thoughts day and night. He got her mixed with 
business, with dispatches, train orders, ticket reports, and 
way bills. Everything was for Carrie. Now, Darby did 
his courting as he did everything — with spirit and impetu- 



DARBY DIXON. 171 

osity. He not only talked sweetly to Carrie, but he sweet- 
ened her with candies, fruits, nuts, ice cream, and soda 
water. He threw himself at her feet and said he'd die if 
she didn't consent to be his bride. She consented. They 
were married. Darby had prosecuted his courtship so 
vigorously and expensively that his salary was forfeited 
for a month to come, and his credit was in an equally pre- 
carious condition. That was nothing to him. He was 
made a husband with but a half dollar in his pocket. That 
was the happiest moment of his life — no money to trouble 
him, and a little angel wife to love him. Who could wish 
for more ? Not he. 

Elk Town could scarcely contain Darby Dixon before, 
but now that Darby had become a husband, he entirely 
obliterated the place from his memory. He obtained a sit- 
uation in Sacramento in the general railroad office. There, 
among the head men of the road, he would be understood 
and appreciated ; and so he was, but not according to his 
way of thinking. Their ideas of railroading were not in 
harmony with his. They were probabty not so good, but 
nevertheless they — the general managers — preferred them 
to his. There was another drawback to the place, too — he 
couldn't talk, couldn't " spread himself," couldn't throw 
himself back in his chair, elevate his heels on the table, and 
send the smoke of a fragrant Havana curling upward to the 
ceiling and be happy. These annoyances of the office were 
never thought of when in the company of his little wife. 
She was the joy of his heart. He was proud of her, and 
well he might be, for she was a jewel. 

Darby applied for a station again, and got it. It was two- 
thirds of the way to Ogden, at a military station in the des- 
ert. Here Darb^ was at home — he was in his glory. To 
hear him talk of wars, and battles, and sieges, explain mil- 
itary movements, see him handle the sword, revolver, gun 
and cannon, one would think him a second Wellington or 
Napoleon. It was marvelous. But such proceedings were 
hardly judicious, after all, at least so they proved. In some 



172 / SAM JOHXSON. 

of his feats of generalship he would threaten to annihilate 
the whole regiment, stampede the stock and burn the camp. 
Those were Ms tactics. The commandant applied to the 
Government for more troops. The Government took the 
matter nnder consideration, and as a result of their delib- 
erations asked the railroad to remove Mr. Darby Dixon, 
otherwise they would be compelled to re-enforce the station 
to keep him down — at the expense of the company. Dar- 
by was removed — not discharged. He was transferred to 
a station near the scene of his former heart conquest, where 
he nourished for several years, prospered, and became the 
father of two lively boys. But his expanding wings in 
time overspread this town, and he departed in search of 
greater fields to conquer. We cannot follow him farther. 
His little wife is still the anchor of his hope. While she 
is, he is safe. May their shadows never grow less. For 
the last time : " Should railroaders marry V 

EAILEOAD TELEGEAPH OPEEATOES. 

There is a line of demarkation between the railroad oper- 
ator and the news and commercial operator — a boundary 
beyond which the one does not venture, and over which the 
other does not step. Generally the railroad operator does 
not aspire to that perfection in the profession which his 
commercial brother attains. The amount of telegraphic 
business that he transacts does not give him practice suffi- 
cient to enable him to mount to the topmost round in the 
ladder of telegraphy. A railroad operator, particularly a 
station agent, is a man of varied pursuits, and of great re- 
sponsibilities. People who travel by railroad, pass sta- 
tions, and see the operator sitting at his desk, or selling 
tickets, handling baggage or freight, or running out to the 
train with letters and bills, may think that he is a pretty 
busy man, at least for the time being. That is about all 
the consideration they will give the subject. ISTow, if the 
people on the train were aware that that operator had re- 
ceived, half an hour before, an order to hold the train in 



KAILR0AD TELEGRAPH OPERATORS. 173 

whicli they sat, at his station, until a train from an oppo- 
site direction should arrive, they might take more interest 
in him. Amid the rush and hurry of passengers, the sell- 
ing of tickets, checking of baggage, being pulled here and 
called there, he must ever have uppermost in his mind the 
train order received half an hour before. If he fails to de- 
liver it, the train leaves, and a collision is the result. !Not 
only in regard to these things are his responsibilities great, 
but he must be perfect in copying orders and messages. 
The altering or dropping of a single word may bring trains 
together, or cause serious delays and losses. He must nev- 
er fail to deliver to a train even what seems to be the most 
unimportant message, though received hours before the 
' train was expected. The railroad operator has the lives, 
comfort, and convenience of the traveling public daily 
and hourly in his hands, and to his credit and honor be it 
said, he rarely betrays the trust. By negligence he can 
delay one train, whicli will delay many others, and thus 
discommode and disappoint many. The prompt, efficient 
operator is one of the most important employes in the ser- 
vice of a railroad company. Does he get that commenda- 
tion from the company and the public that his services and 
merits entitle him to? I can illustrate this phase of the 
subject best by giving an instance of actual occurrence. 

When the "Fast Train," which made the trip from "New 
York to San Francisco in eighty-four hours, was on the 
way, operators were strictly commanded to be in their offi- 
ces at a certain hour, long before the train was expected. 
This train was expected at Sacramento at any hour between 
five o'clock p. m. and the morning following. Operators 
west of Sacramento had to be within reach of their keys 
from this hour until the train did pass. From the time the 
"Fast Train" left Ogden until it arrived at San Francisco, 
all offices received reports of its departure from every other 
telegraph office. They were thus as well posted in regard 
to its movements as were the superintendents, and could 
calculate pretty nearly the time when it would reach them. 



174 SAM JOHNSON. ' 

At midnight it was still beyond Truckee, east of the Sierra 
Nevada Mountains. At this hour the operator at Gouge 
Eve stepped out for a few minutes to get a lunch, leaving 
several railroad men in Ms office. While he was absent, 
some one began repeating his call very "pluggishly." 
The train dispatcher tried to make him desist, but could 
not "break" him. Ground wires were put on and the 
trouble located between the stations next east and west of 
Gouge Eye, therefore it »must have been the operator at 
Gouge Eye himself, or some one in his office, who was 
causing the trouble. It ceased. Then the dispatcher called 
Gouge Eye. He answered. He was asked where the 
trouble had been, and why he did not allow himself to be 
"broken?" He replied that he knew of no trouble ; that 
he had been out of the office a few minutes ; that the line 
was all right when he left, and also when he returned. He 
explained that he had left several railroad men in the office 
when he went out, but every one of them assured him 
that no one had touched the key. The explanation was not 
satisfactory. The ' l Fast Train ' ' was expected every min- 
ute, though it was known to be two hundred miles away. 
The operator was ordered to send in his resignation by the 
first train. 

This incident shows how close the watch kept over oper- 
ators. It also illustrates the risks they run, and the con- 
sideration they receive when thought neglectful. Now we 
will see who got the praise from the public press. The 
general managers of the road received the first encomiums, 
next the division superintendents. They were mentioned 
by name, and applauded for their vigilance and watchful- 
ness. Then the engineers and conductors were named and 
praised, and even the firemen. These parties justly mer- 
ited the commendation they received ; but was not the op- 
erator equally deserving of public notice ? Was there an 
operator on the train's route between New York and San 
Francisco who saw his name in print on account of his 
watchfulness ? 



RAILROAD TELEGRAPH OPERATORS. 175 

I am not enumerating the multiplied duties and respon- 
sibilities of railroad operators for the purpose of complain- 
ing of their situation, but simply in hopes that they may 
be better understood and appreciated. It must be borne 
in mind that they have no Sabbaths, no holidays, and can- 
not even make an appointment for a few hours' absence 
with any certainty of keeping it. Here is an instance : 

A few days previous to last Thanksgiving Day, I was 
invited by a family living about a mile from the depot to 
make one of a small company who were to assemble there 
on the day of national thanksgiving to celebrate the day, 
and also to pay their respects to a roast turkey, and other 
delicacies. I was allowed to set whatever time for the 
repast would be most convenient for me. I did, and 
made it three o'clock p. m. Now, turkey dinners do not 
occur so often in Poverty Flat that one is liable to turn 
gobbler on account of eating thereof, therefore I earnestly 
hoped that I might be permitted to do justice to this one. 
I retired the evening before, having made up my mind to 
partake of but a light breakfast and nothing more until I 
should make my bow at the Thanksgiving Day dinner, in 
order that my appetite might be sharp as became the occa- 
sion. When I reached the office Thanksgiving Day morn- 
ing, after having eaten a very scanty breakfast, the first 
salutation that greeted me was a call from the dispatcher' s 
office, followed by the soothing (?) information that train 
No. 8 was in the ditch a few miles west of Poverty Flat, 
and that I must pay close attention to the instrument for I 
might be wanted at any moment. In my anguish I cried 
aloud: "Good bye, turkey! thou art so near and yet so 
far. I love thee, but cannot embrace thee." 

Well, I didn't attend the Thanksgiving-Day-turkey- 
dinner-party. I am not particularly fond of turkey, 
except when I can't get it. Then I do want it. But to be 
compelled to remain at work, and suck the bone of disap- 
pointment, realizing all t the while what splendid enjoyment 
others are having, and all because an accident must 



176 SAM JOHNSON. 

happen on that particular day— just as if it had been set 
apart for such things — is crowding the agony on a little too 
heavily. But, as if this were not enough, when I took up 
the daily paper the morning after this event, what should 
first attract my attention but these startling words : ' ' Grand 
Turkey Roast, and General Good Time among the Prisoners 
at the County Jail." 

The paper dropped from my hands. I jumped up, vow- 
ing that I would immediately go and steal a horse, and 
thereby get into jail, and probably I might get some of the 
remnants from this year' s feast ; if not in time for this I 
would be on hand for the next. But I didn't do it. A 
call from the instrument demanded my attention, and when 
I was at liberty again my excitement had subsided, and I 
repented of my rash determination. I again took up the 
the paper — " Great Caesar, what is this?" I exclaimed. 
" Great Jollification of the Prisoners at San 
Quentin. Grand Feast for Fourteen Hundred 
Convicts !" 

This was too much. I was immediately seized with a 
desperate desire to murder some one. The more I thought 
of it, the more blood-thirsty I became. I, an honest, up- 
right citizen, working and toiling for my daily bread, am 
less favored by fortune than the chief of sinners. What 
consolation does a man have for doing right when the 
wrong doers derive all the profit, and all the pleasure — 
and all the turkey % Brooding over these things wrought 
my nerves up to the highest destructive pitch, and 
what might have happened will never be known, for again 
the sound, that has led me a dance for fifteen years, caused 
me to forget all else, and obey its voice. 

And thus the fickle goddess of fortune ever deals 
with railroaders. Yet they are the liveliest of the lively, 
the happiest of the happy. There is a charm about oper- 
ating, about railroading, the constant shifting, varying 
scenes, the rush and crush, the moving trains, the shrill 
whistle of the locomotive, and the general good feeling of 



RAILROAD TELEGRAPH OPERATORS. 



177 



one employe for another, be he stranger or familiar friend, 
that draws one to it as if by magic, and charms him 
by its ever moving panorama. 

And now we must say good bye to Sam Johnson. Pov- 
erty Flat is still his abiding place. He is the same 
good-natured Sam that he has ever been, and thus we 
leave him. 




The Operator, 

A JOURNAL OF 

SCIENTIFIC AND PRACTICAL TELEGRAPHY. 

Published on the 1st and \Wi of each Month, 

AT 

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Another advantage of being a subscriber of The Operator is that in the 
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Publisher of The Operator, 
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Lightning Flashes and Electric Dashes, 

A VOLUME OF CHOICE 

Telegraphic Literature, Humor, Fun, Wit, and Wisdom; 

COMPILED BY 

W. J. JOHNSTON, Editor of The Operator, 

WITH CONTRIBUTIONS FROM THE PENS OF 

W. P. Phillips, "John Oakum;" D. C. Shaw, "OneyGagen:" J. A. Clippinger, 

" Samson ;" E. O. Chase, " Nuf Ced ;" Joseph Christie, '* Werner;" T. C. 

Noble, Jr., "Chops;" C. E. Watts, " Yosef ;" Ralph W. Pope, 

Geo. H. Bliss, J. D. Reit>, H. Van Hoevenbergh, Miss L. A. 

Churchill, and others, and copiously illustrated. 

The book also contains a brief and interesting life of Professor Morse, by 
Benson J. Lossing, the well-known historian; and a Telegraphic Sketch, by Charles 
Barnard, Editor of "World's Work," Scribner" 1 s Monthly , both handsomely illustrated. 

176 Large Double-Column Octavo Pages. Cloth, $1.50. 



Few books devoted to a particular class of literature have called forth so many 
encomiums from press and public, or been read so extensively or so thoroughly, 
both by the profession for whose special delectation it Avas prepared, and by the 
general outside reader, as has the above book, " Lightning Flashes." The reason 
may be told in a few words : the book is made up of short, bright, crisp, ably- 
written 6tories and sketches from the pens of all the foremost writers in the ranks 
of telegraphic literature. Between its covers will be found a little of everything, 
and an infinite variety of styles. Prose and verse — mirth-provoking, witty, rol- 
licking, humorous, pathetic, tender—" from grave to gay, from lively to severe." 
The matter it contains has been carefully selected and arranged by the editor of 
The Operator, who also contributes to it, and nothing has "been admitted into 
its pages that is not of a high order of literary merit, and of permanent interest to 
the telegraphic fraternity. It is beautifully illustrated throughout on tinted plate 
paper, by artists belonging to the telegraphic profession. The paper on which it 
is printed was manufactured specially for it; the pictures were drawn and en- 
graved for it; and most of the sketches were also written specially for it. The 
paper is thick, smooth, and fine; the binding and general getting up handsome 
and substantial, and the appearance rich, neat, and attractive. The book makes a 
beautiful ornament for a parlor table ; and for a present— especially a holiday pres- 
ent to a friend, old or young, married or single, in or out of the profession, nothing 

could be more appropriate. The size of the page is a large octavo double column, 
and the book contains more than three times as much matter, besides pictures, as 
ordinary Si. 50 books. One article alone, that by Benson J. Lossing, LL. D., the 
well-known historian and personal friend of Professor Morse, is well worth the 
entire price of the volume. With this article are given an excellent portrait of 
Prof. Morse; Morse's first recording telegraph; fac-simile of the first telegram, 
with a fac-simile of Prof. Morse's indorsement of it; Morse's residence art Pousrh- 
keepsie, and other illustrations, and the article itself contains a brief life of the 
great Father of the Telegraph with which every operator in the land should be 
thoroughly familiar. The price of the work was placed at the low figure of %\ .50, 
because we believed that a large number of copies would be sold, and we have not 
been disappointed. " Lightning Flashes " will afford delightful reading either for 
summer or winter, and no telegrapher should be without a copy. 

The oldest newspaper on the continent, the Philadelphia North American, 
says of " Lightning Flashes:" " Typographically, it is a handsome production, 
being illustrated with numerous well-executed cuts of excellent design, and of a 
humorous character. The contents consist of a large number of bright, spicy, 
piquant and humorous sketches from the pens of the best*telegraphic writers, who 
have dressed them in smooth and entertaining language. It also contains an in- 
structive and interesting history of Prof. Morse, from the pen of Benson J. Lossing." 



Other Press Opinions of Lightning Flashes. 

Boston Traveler : A healthy addition to teleraphic literaure." 

"Li^tnin- Flakes,'' savs the Glen Falls, N. Y. Republican "iszmelange of his- 
tory ^noetrv "narrative, humor, fun, wit, wisdom, profusely illustrated, and contains 
In &te?estfn«? summary of the leading features in the life of Samuel F. B Morse, 
fnventor -of tlie electric telegraph, including his earliest efforts, trials, and subse 

q The London" England, Telegraphist says: " Lightning Flashes ; and Electric 
Dashes ^fairly entitled to be styled unique, and reflects great credit upon all con- 
?era™ in ii production. Everything in the work is thoroughly telegraphic ami 
hfihlvamusin- the cartoons are cleverly executed, the narratives pithily and in 
P af LEtty worded, while the variety supplied will make it difficult for any 
who may have the privilege of reading the book to do so without enjoyment. We 
heartilv recommend the work to our brother telegraphists. . 

WlSw Leader toys: "It is a work of valuable information spiced 
with startling and humorous incidents of life, and is the second book published 
livin- teleoraphy a literature of its own. The first was very successful, and we 
should judge that this one will be fully appreciated by the reading public Every 
person who has the fortune to see this volume will desire to possess it. The field 
For this kind of literature is much larger and more productive than we realized, 
and we shall look forward for fresh gatherings of the rich harvest it seemingly 
affords for charming; summer readiug. 

The Nkw York Graphic says : " Lightning Flashes " is an interesting collection of 
anecdotes and adventures peculiar to telegraphic experience. ; Few occupations 
arTso well calculated to furnish material for mirth as telegraphing. It offers such 
wide scope for the exercise of personal peculiarities on the part of those who 
invoke its aid, and its extensive range, including all sorts of people, incidents of a 
Peculiar and amusing character are of frequent occurrence, the nature of which is 
well "et forth in this entertaining volume. The book is written in a bright and 
sparkling style, and the numerous illustrations lend an additional interest to the 
work which we have no doubt will meet with an extended sale." 

The Harrisburg, Pa., Independent says: "We do not know that we have ever 
opened a volume that promised more genuine or wholesome entertainment, or that 
in the reading of which so fully realized our expectations of enjoyment, than did 
these ' LMitnin"- Flashes.' The interest of the reader commences with the initial 
chapter and from this to the end of the volume there is nothing but a succession 
of pleasurable surprises. Of course the burden of most, if not all, the articles is 
of magnetic telegraphy, but the history and experience of that wonderful art is 
brimful of wisdom, fun, humor and wit, of which Mr. Johnston has taken advan- 
tage and <nven us a volume that will take a high rank among the encyclopedias of 
anecdotal "literature. The volume contains a number of finely executed engrav- 
ings illustrative of various parts of the text, while the binding and embossing are 
ofthe most superb character. Altogether the book is one of the best issues of its 
kind during the season, and should command a very large sale." 

Lightning Flashes and our other Publications. 

We will send, prepaid by mail, to the same or separate addresses, Lightning 
Flashes and our other publications at the following low rates : 

"Lightning Flashes" and "Sam Johnson" or " Oakum Pickings" $1.75 

41 Lightning Flashes" and both 75 cent books or The Operator one year 2.25 

»« Lightning Flashes" and " Christmas Evergreens," (when ready) 2.50 

" Lightning Flashes," The Operator, and either 75 cent book 2.75 

" Lightning Flashes," " Christmas Evergreens," and either 75 cent book 3.00 

" Lightning Flashes," " Chrismas Evergreens," and The Operator 1 year 3.25 

All four books (two cloth, two paper), $3.25; all four, in cloth, $4.00. 
A copy of each (four books and the paper, regular price §5.75) only 4.50 

Remit by Post-office Order, Draft, or Registered Letter. 

W. J. JOHNSTON, Publisher, 

P. 0. Box 3,332, New York. 



Of the Spicy. Attractive, Entertaining, and Popular Work. 

Oakum Pickings, 

A Miscellaneous Collection of Stories, Sketches, Essays, and Paragraphs, 
Telegraphic and G-eneral, contributed from time to time to the Telegraphic 
Papers, New York Graphic, Hearth, and Home, Danbury News, and 
other first-class Journals, by Mr. Walter P. Phillips, Assistant Gen- 
eral-Agent New York Associated Press, under the nom de plume of John 
Oakum, with a fine Steel-Plate Engraving of the Author. 
188 Pages. Strong Paper, 75 Cents. 



The demand for copies of Oakum Pickings has been so great that already three 
editions of the work have been sold, and a f onrth will soon be ready. So many 
requests have reached us for an edition of the book at a price which every tele- 
grapher in the land can afford to pay, that we have now issued Oakum Pickings, 
printed on paper equal in quality to that used in the best edition, with a steel- 
plate engraving of the author, and subtantially bound in strong paper, at the very 
reasonable price of Seventy-Five Cents a copy. The printing, binding, and general 
appearance of tbe book is acknowledged by both telegraphers and public to be of 
the very neatest and most tasteful description, while both individuals and news- 
papers agree that its contents are of an unusually amusing, lively, humorous, and 
thoroughly interesting character. 

Mr. Phillips, the author, is so well known to the fraternity as a spicy, original, 
witty, entertaining, and popular contributor to the current telegraphic and humor- 
ous "literature of the day, and his character sketches of "Jim Lawless," " Tip 
McCloskey," "Posie Van Dusen," "Cap. de Costa," etc., have won for him so 
enviable a reputation as a humorous sketch writer, that this opportunity of possess- 
ing a copy of his very choicest writings — the cream of his contributions to the 
telegraphic and general press— in one handsomely-bound volume, at a remarkably 
reasonable price, will, we feel certain, be considered a rare treat by many hundreds 
of telegraphers and others who have made his acquaintance through these sketches. 



CONTENTS OF " OAKUM PICKINGS." 

Tne book is divided into two parts. Part first contains 127 pages, embracing 
sketches, stories, essays, etc., each having a separate title, while part second, from 
page 128 to the end, contains thirty-three Minor Paragraphs, or short articles without 
titles. The contents are : 

Love and Lightning — Old Jim Lawless — Thomas Johnson — Cap. de Costa — Uncle 
Daniel — Summer Recreation — Little Tip McJlosky — Stage Coaching — Posie Van 
Dusen — Tne Blue and The Gray — An Autumn Episode — An Old Man's Exegesis — 
Block Island — Bad Medicine — The Bloodless Onslaught — Statistics — Departed Days 
— Minor Paragraphs. 

" Oakum Pickings " and " Lightning Flashes " $2.00. 

What the Newspapers have to say of " Oakum Pickings.'' 

Highly amusing. -^V; T. Times. 

Bright, witty, and full of humor. — Publishers' Weekly. 
Tnere is nota dull page in the work. — Telegrapher. 
Original and unique, numerous and pathetic. — Augusta Chronicle. 
Short, realistic, lively sketches, illustrative of his own profession. — V. T. Tribune. 
Remit by Post-office Order, Draft, or Registered Letter. 

W. J. JOHNSTON, Publisher, 

P. 0. Box 3,332, New York. 



Visiting Cards. ' I'lVJ. 

We will send, prepaid, by mail, to any address, Fifty Handsome Visiting Cards 
-Five Assorted Tints, and neatly printed— on receipt of 25 cents. 



Electrotype Sounder and Key. 

• We will send Fifty beautiful White Cards with Western Union Curved Key or 
Sounder — all one kind, or twenty five of each — in Tint, for 30 cents, currency or 
postage stamps. 



Telegraphers 9 New Year's Calling Cards. 

The design for these Cards has been prepared specially with a view of giving 
telegraphers a distinctively telegraphic New Year's Card — one that will be neat, 
pretty, and appropriate; different from any other New Year's Card, and so unique 
and handsome as to attract attention and deserve preservation. The Card contains 
authentic portraits of Franklin and Morse; ancient and modern telegraphic instru- 
ments; an operator in his office, with view from window of rattroad train, the 
locomotive of which bears the appropriate telegraphic signal number "73." A lady 
and gentleman— one at each side— are wishing each other the compliments of the 
season by telephone, the wo'rds " Happy New Year" running across the Card zig 
zag like a flash of lightning. Altogether, the Card has only to be seen to be appre- 
ciated. Every telegrapher who expects to make New Year's calls should have some, 
and those who don't should order some anyway and mail them to their friends. 

PRICE— 25 without name, mailed, only 25 cents. 

. 25 with name, " " 35 " 

50 • " " »' " " 50 ." 

Address or more than one name ten cents extra. Where some telegraphic" and 
some non-telegraphic New Year's Cards are desired, say how many of each, and we 
will send them at same price. 



" The Operator " Purchasing Agency. 

Telegraphers should bear in mind that we are always happy to purchase for them 
anything that they may desire from New York, whether in the line of telegraphic 
or electrical goods or otherwise. Any telegraphic instrument or apparatus adver- 
tised in the columns of The Operator, or manufactured in this country, will be 
sent on receipt of very lowest manufacturers' prices. Books, newspapers or maga- 
zines on any subject will be sent prepaid by mail on receipt of publisher's prices. 
We will thank telegraphers if in future they will send all their orders, sinallor 
great, to us. We will guarantee them satisfaction. 



The following Scientific Books and Papers, 

or any other book, paper or magazine published, whether telegraphic or otherwise, 
will be sent, prepaid by mail, to any address in the United States or Can«.da, on 
receipt of price: 

Smith's Manual of Telegraphy... .. » 30 

Pope's Modern Practice of the Electric Telegraph 2.00 

Prescott's Speaking Telephone, Talking Phono<2:raphy,etc . .. 3.00 

Prescott's Electricity and the Electric Telegraph, lllus 5.00 

London Telegraphic Journal (semi-monthly), per year 3.00 

London Electrician (weekly), per year 6 00 



Beautiful JEngraving of Prof S. F. B. Morse, 

Father of the Telegraph. 

Impressed on heavy, cream-tinted card-board, with a neat tint background. Size, 
10 inches by 9, suitable for framing. 

Price only 15 cents each, postage prepaid. To agents, 2 for 25 cents, 6 for 50 
cents, 12 for $1.00. 

W. J. JOHNSTON, 

P. O. Box 3,332, Mew York. 



Important Annonncement ! 



JSTO'\7S7' in- 
to BE ISSUED IN OCTOBER, 

CHRISTMAS EVERGREENS: 

A COLLECTION OF 

Telegraphic and General Poetry for the Holidays, 

SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY 

W. J. JOHNSTOX, Editor op "The Operator," 

AND CONTAINING, IN ADDITION TO 

A LARGE NUMBER OF TELEGRAPHIC POEMS BY THE BEST WRITERS 

SUCH GEMS AS 

Longfellow's "Paul Reveres Ride," and Goldsmith's 
" Traveller " and " Deserted Village. " 

Both the Telegraphic and General Poems will be magnificently illus- 
trated, several first-class artists being now at work on the drawings. 

Many of the poems will contain from six to eight beautiful engravings. 

The book will be printed on extra heavy tinted paper, and superbly 
bound in best holiday style — rich, thick covers, and gilt edges — while the 
price will only be $1.50 a copy, postage prepaid. 

It is believed that "Christmas Evergreens" will be one of, if not 
the, handsomest holiday books of the season. Certainly all that a careful 
selection of the finest material, numerous beautiful original drawings by first- 
class artists, and finely executed engravings can do, will be done to turn 
out a book that will reflect credit not only upon the publisher and those 
concerned in the mechanical execution, but upon the telegraphic fraternity 
as well. Christmas Evergreens will be clubbed with our other publi- 
cations at the same rate as " Lightning Flashes." 

That the book may meet the large sale it is hoped it will deserve, 

Agents will be wanted in every Town and City in the United 
States and Canada, 

to introduce it not only among the telegraphic fraternity but also to out 
siders. So unusually Liberal Terms will be made for this purpose, that 
agents can easily be able to clear from $25 to $100 in cash by Christmas. 

Send in your Name at once, 

and particulars will be mailed you as soon as the book is ready in October. 

W. J. JOHNSTON, Publisher, 

P. 0. Box 3,332, New York. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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